■BIbE DM BEAUTIES OF POETRY CONSISTING OF FROM THE WORKS OF POPE, ADDISON, PENROSE, BURNS, GOLDSMITH, PARNELL, OGH.VTE, FOX, BEATTIE, PRIOR, CAWTHORN, SMOLLETT, GRAY, COLLINS, DUNCOMBE, GREEN, COWPER, COTTON, J, WARTON, TICKELL, LANGHORNE, MERRICK, WHITEHEAD, CARTER, a>tb SHENSTONE, PHILLDPS, THOMSON, T. WARTON " The wandering" Muse " Scatters luxuriant sweets." 5H0M THE DUBLIN EDITION, WITH VARIOUS CORRECTION ADDITIONS, AXD I3IPROVEMENTS, ALBANY: PRINTED BY CHURCHDLL & M'GLASHAN, JV*o. 95, State-street, a few Boors east of the Episcopal Church. Sold by Churchill Sc M'Glashan, Albany ; Bemis & Beach, Canan- daigua; William L. Stone, Herkimer; S. B. Leonard, Owegw; Loomis & Richards, Middletown, (Conn.) and Fay & Davison, Rutland, (Vt.) L814, TTT\ns ywwitetmik THE publishers of this improved edition of the Beauties of Poetry, deem it superfluous to offer any other recommendation than that which a reference to the succeeding pages of Contents will furnish. Read- ers of taste, they trust, will there find such an assem= blage of the best productions of many of the most cel- ebrated poets as cannot fail to be highly acceptable. To those whose circumstances or inclinations may not permit them to purchase a large number of books, this compilation, it is believed, will be peculiarly use- ful ; as it unquestionably contains a greater variety of elegant poetical effusions than any other work of its size and price. To the learned and affluent, also, it will not be of less advantage ; as the trouble of research is materially lessened by comprising in a neat portable Volume the best productions of .several authors n CONTENTS. PAGE. An Ode, Addison, 127 V Night Piece on Death, Parnell, 128 A Hymn to Contentment, ib. 131 An Allegory on Man ib. 133 The Garland, Prior, 137 A Dirge in Cymbeline, Collins, 138 Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson, ib. 140 ORIENTAL ECLOGUES, Eclogue I. Selrm ; or, the Shepherd'sMoral, ib. 231 Eclogue II. Hassan 5 or, the Camel-Driver, ib. 233 Eclogue III. Abra ; or, the Georgian Sultana, ib. 236 Eclogue IV. Agib and Secander ; or, the Fugitives, ib. 239 - Ode on the Passions, ib. 241 Ode to Simplicity, - ib. 245 To-morrow, - Cotton, 142 The Benedicite paraphrased, Merrick, 143 The Splendid Shilling, Phillips, 150 , Madness : an Ode, Penrose, 154 Ode to Melancholy, Ogilvie, 157 Of Taste : an Essay, Cawthorn, 161* The Birth and Education of Genius : a Tale, ib. 167- Nobility : a Moral Essay, ib. 178 Ode to Health, Vuncombe, 185 The Hamlet, T. Warton, 187' Ode to Evening, J. Warton, 189^ The Jnthusiast : an Ode, Whitehead, 190 Hymn on Solitude, Thomson, fOB CONTENTS, vii PAGE. The Cotter's Saturday Night, - Burns, 201 Man was made to mourn : a Dirge, - ib. 209 Winter : a Dirge, - - ib. 212 To Ruin, ..-»i&. 214 Address to Edinburgh, - - ib. 215 Song, . - - - ib. 9X7 The Farewel, to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tarbolton, -* - ib. 219 Written in Friars-Carse Hermitage, on Nith- side, - ib. 2£G On scaring some Water-Fowl in Loch-Turit, a wild Scene among the Hills of Ough- tertyre, - - ib. 222 Despondency : an Ode, - - ib. 224 Address to the Shade of Thomson, on crown- ing his Bust, at Ednam, Roxburghshire, with Bays, - - ib. 226 , On seeing a wounded Hare limp by me, which a Fellow had just shot at, ib % 227 On Miss J* Scott, of Ayr, ib. 227 'The Fakenham' Ghost, Bloomfield, 228 *The Mansion of Rest, Fox, 247 /The Tears of Scotland, Smollett, 249 Ode to Leven Water, ib. 251 "The Spleen, Green, 255 'Lucy and Colin, Tickell, 281 A Night Piece, Carter, 297 Inscription in a Hermitage, &c. T. JVarton, 299 ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY BY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ. Y\ HAT beckoning ghost, along the moonlight shade- Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? *Tis she ! — but why that bleeding bosom gored ? AVhy dimly gleams the visionary sword ? Oh ! ever beauteous, over {Vlond of all that riches gave, But towns unmann'd, ^d lords without a slave ; And late the nation found, with fruitless skill, Its former strength was but pletn^i c in. Yet, still the loss of wealth is here supplied By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride ; From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind An easy compensation seem to find. Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd, The paste -board triumph and the cavalcade ; Processions form'd for piety and love, A mistress or a saint in every grove. By sports like these are all their cares beguiled, The sports of children satisfy the child 5 Each nobler aim, repress'd by long control, Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 5 "While low delights, succeeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind : As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, Defaced by time, and tottering in decay, There in the ruiri, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed, And, wondering man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns Ins cottage with a smile. My soul, turn from them — turn, we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display ; Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread. And force a churlish soil for scanty bread 5 No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the soldier and his sword. No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter lingering chills the lap of May 5 No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. Yet still, ev'n here, content can spread a charm, Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. Though poor the peasant's hut, his feast though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all 5 Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed 5 No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal ; But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil. Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose, Breathes the keen air, and carols as he go With patient angle trolls the finny deep, Or drives his venturous ploughshare to the steep; 56 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way. And drags the struggling savage into day. At night returning, every labor sped, He sits him down the monarch of a shed : Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round survey* His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze ; While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard, Displays her cleanly platter on the board : And haply too some pilgrim thither led, With many a tale repays the nightly bed. Thus every good his native wilds impart,, Imprints the patriot passion on his hearty And ev'n those ills, that round his mansion rise^ Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies : Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; And, as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, 80 the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more* Such are the charms to barren states assign 'd : Their wants but few, their wishes all confined. Yet let them only share the praises due ; If few their wants, their pleasures are but few : For every want that stimulates the breast, Becomes a source of pleasure when redressed. When from such lands each pleasing science flies, That first excites desire, and then supplies 5 Unknown to them when sensual pleasures cloy, To fill the languid pause with finer jov; Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, Their level life is but a mouldering fire, Unquench'd by -want, unfann'd by strong desire : ■Unfit for raptures ; or, if raptures cheer On some high festival of once a year, In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow; Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low ; For, as refinement stops, from sire to son, Unalter'd, unimproved, the manners run ; And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart Fall blunted from each indurated heart. Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest; But all the gentler morals, such as play Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way ; ; These, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly, To sport and flutter in a kinder sky. To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, I turn ; and France displays her bright domain. Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease ; Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please.; How often have I led thy sportive choir, With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire ! Where shading elms along the margin grew, And, freshen'd from the wave, the zephyr flew ; And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still, But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill ; Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze ; D2 38 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And the gay grandsire, skill 'd in gestic lore, Has frisk' d beneath the burthen of threescore. So blest a life these thoughtless realms display? Thus idly busy rolls their world away. Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear t For honor forms the social temper here. Honor, that praise which real merit gains, Or ev'n imaginary worth obtains, Here passes current ; paid from hand to hand, it shifts, in splendid traffic, round the land : From courts to camps, to cottages it strays, And all are taught an avarice of praise; They please, are pleased ; they give to get esteem, Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem. But, while this softer art their blis3 supplies, It gives their follies also room to rise ; Tor praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought. Enfeebles all internal strength of thought ; And the weak soul, within itself unblest, Xeans for all pleasure on another's breast. Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art, Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart. Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace ; Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, To boast one splendid banquet once a year : The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws. Nor weighs the solid worth of self applause. To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, .Where the broad ocean leans against the land, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 39 And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ^ Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roaiy Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore ; While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile, Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile j The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale, The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowded mart, the cultivated plain? A new creation, rescued from his reign. Thus, while around the wave- subjected soil Impels the native to repeated toil, Industrious habits in each bosom reign, And industry begets a love of gain. Hence all the good from opulence that springs, With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, Are here display'd. Their much loved wealth imparts- Convenience, plent} r , elegance, and arts; "But view them closer, craft and fraud appear 5 Ev'n liberty itself is barter'd here. At gold's superior charms all freedom flies ; The needy sell it, and the rich man buys 5 A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves ! Here wretches seek dishonorable graves? And calmly bent, to servitude conform, Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old ! Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; War in each breast, and freedom on each brov> ; How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! 40 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing. And flies where Britain courts the western springy Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, And brighter streams than famed Hydaspis glide. There all around the gentlest breezes stray ; There gentle music melts on every spray : Creation's mildest charms are there combined ; Extremes are only in the master's mind ! Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great ; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by ; 'Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd, fresh from nature's hand ; Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagined right, above control, While ev'n the peasant boasts these rights to scan. And learns to venerate himself as man. Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictured here,. Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear ; Too blest indeed, were such without alloy, But, foster'd ev'n by freedom, ills annoy ; That independence Britons prize too high, Keeps man from man, and" breaks the social tie. The self-dependent lordlings stand alone, All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown. ; Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held, Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd. Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar, Repress'd ambition struggles round the shore, Till, over-wrought, the general system feels Its motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels. Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, As duty, love, and honor, fail to sway, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 4i Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. Hence all obedience bows to these alone, And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown ; Till time may come, when, stripp'd ot a.11 her charms., The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, Where noble steins transmit the patriot flame, V/here kings have toil'd and poets wrote for fame, One sink of level avarice shall lie, And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonor'd die. Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state, I mean to flatter kings, or court the great : Ye powers of truth that bid my soul aspire, Far from my bosom drive the low desire; And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel 5 Thou transitory flower, alike undone By proud contempt, or favors fostering sun, Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,. I only would repress them to secure : For just experience tells, in every soil, That those who think must govern those that toil ; And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach, Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each, Hence, should one order disproportion^ grow, Its double weight must ruin all below. O then, how blind to all that truth requires, Who think it freedom when a part aspires ! Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, Except when fast-approaching danger warms : But, when contending chiefs blockade the thrones Contracting regal power to stretch their own : 42 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom when themselves are free ; Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, Laws grind the j/oor, and rich men rule the law : The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam, Pillaged from slaves to purchase slaves at home 5 Fear, pity, justice, indignation, start, Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart 5 Till, half a patriot, half a coward grown, I fly from petty tyrants to the throne. Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour, When first ambition struck at regal power ; And, thus polluting honor in its source, Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force. Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore, Her useful sons exchanged for useless ore ? Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste, Like flaring tapers brightening as they waste 5 Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain, Lead stern depopulation in her train, And, over fields where scatter'd hamlets rose, In barren, solitary pomp repose ? Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly call, The smiling, long-frequented village fall ? Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay'd, The modest matron, and the blushing maid, Forced from their homes, a melancholy train, To traverse climes beyond the western main ; Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around. And Niagara stuns with thundering sound ? Ev'n now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays Through tangled forests, and through dangerous way- BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Where beasts with man divided empire claim, And the brown Indian marks with murderous aim : There, while above the giddy tempest flies, And all around distressful yells arise, The pensive exile, bending with his woe, To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, Casts a long look where England's glories shine. And bids his bosom sympathize with mine. Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centers in the mind : Why have I stray 'd from pleasure and repose, To seek a good each government bestows ? In every government, though terrors reign. Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain. How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or care ! Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, Our own felicity we make or find : With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel, To men remote from power but rarely known, Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own. 44 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. THE MIKSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. BY JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D. BOOK I. I. AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ! Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war ! Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropp'd into the grave, unpitied and unknown ! II. And yet the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all ; Him who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise, The silence of neglect can ne'er appal. There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call, Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame ; Supremely blest, if to their portion fall Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim. III. The rolls of fame I will not now explore ; Nor need I here describe, in learned lay, BEAUTIES OF POETRY* 4o How forth The Minstrel fared in days of yore, Right glad of heart, though homely in array ; His waving locks and beard all hoary gray : While, from his bending shoulder, decent hung His harp, the sole companion of his way, Which to the whistling wind responsive rung : And ever as he went some merry lay he sung. IV, Fret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride, That a poor villager inspires my strain ; With thee let Pageantry and Power abide : The gentle Muses haunt the sylvan reign ^ Where, through wild groves, at eve the lonely swain Enraptured roams, to gaze on Nature's charms. They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain 5 The parasite their influence never warms, Nor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms. V. Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn, Yet horror screams from his discordant throat. Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn, While warbling larks on russet pinions float : Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote, Where the gray linnets carol from the hill. O let them ne'er, with artificial note, To please a tyrant, strain the little bill, But sing what Heaven inspires, and wander where the* will. VI. Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand ; Nor was perfection made for man below ; Yet all her schemes with nicest art are plann'd. E 4<> BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe. "With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow. If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise % There plague and poison, lust and rapine grow j Here peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies, And freedom fires the soul 5 and sparkles in the eyes. VII. Tiien grieve not, thou, to whom th' indulgent Muse Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire ; Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse Th' imperial banquet, and the rich attire. Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre. Wilt thou debase the heart which God refined ? No ; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire, To fancy, freedom, harmony, resign'd ; Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind. VIII. Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul, In each fine sense so exquisitely keen, On the dull couch of Luxury to loll, Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen ; Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen, Ev'n from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide, (The mansion then no more of joy serene) Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide, And impotent desire, and disappointed pride ? IX. O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields* The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields : AH that the genial ray of morning gilds, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 47 And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! X. These charms shall work thy souPs eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart. But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart ; For, ah ! it poisons like a scorpion's dart ; Prompting th' ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme, The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart ; The troublous day, and long distressful dream.— Return, my roving Muse, resume thy purposed theme, XI. There lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell, A shepherd -swain, a man of low degree ; Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell, Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady ; But he, I ween, was of the north countrie : A nation famed for song, and beauty's charms ; Zealous, yet modest; innocent though free 5 Patient of toil ; serene amidst alarms ; Inflexible in faith ; invincible in arms. XII. The shepherd -swain of whom I mention made, On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock ; The sickle, scythe, or plough, he never sway'd ; An honest heart was almost all his stock ; His drink the living water from the rock; ; The milky dams supplied his board, and lent Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shpck ; 48 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent. Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoever they went. XIII. From labor health, from health contentment spring* j Contentment opes the source of every joy. He envied not, he never thought of kings ; Nor from those appetites sustain'd annoy, That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy ; Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled : He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor mistress coy, For on his vows the blameless Phcebe smiled, And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child* XIV. No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast, Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife j Each season Iook'd delightful as it pass'd, To the fond husband, and the faithful wife. Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life They never roam'd ; secure beneatli ihe storm Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife, Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform. XV. The wight whose tale these artless lines unfold, Was all the offspring of this humble pair. His birth no oracle or seer foretold ; No prodigy appeared in earth or air, Nor aught that might a strange event declare. You guess each circumstance of Edwin's birth ; The parent's transport, and the parent's care ; The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth : And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 49 XVI. And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ; Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye. Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy. Silent when glad ; affectionate, though shy ; And now his look was most demurely sad, And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbors stared and sigh'd,yet bless'd the lad : Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad, XVII. But why should I his childish feats display ? Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled 5 Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray Of squabbling imps, but to the forest sped, Or roam'd at large the ftmely mountain's head 5 Or, where the maze of some bewilder 'd stream To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led, There would he wander wild, till Phoebus' beam, Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team, XVIII. Th' exploit of strength,, dexterity, or speed, To him nor vanity nor joy could bring. His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed To work the woe of any living thing, By trap, or net 5 by arrow, or by sling ; These he detested, those lie scorn'd to wield : He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king, Tyrant far less, or traitor, of the field, And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. E 2 50 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XIX. Xo ! where the stripling, wrapp'd in wonder, rove- Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine ; And sees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves, From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine : While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join, And Echo swells the chorus to the skies. "Would Edwin this majestic scene resign For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies ? Ah ! no : he better knows great Nature's charms to prize. XX. And oft he traced the uplands, to survey. When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn. The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain gray, And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn ; Far to the west, the long, long vale withdrawn, Where twilight loves to linger for a while ; And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn t . And villager abroad at early toil. — But, io ! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, smile* XXI. And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. What dreadful pleasure ■! there to stand sublime, Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, And view th' enormous waste of vapor, tost In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, Now scocp'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss-'d 1 And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound T BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 91 XXII. In truth he was a strange- and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene. Ii* darkness, and in storm, he found delight : Nor less, than when on ocean wave serene The southern sun diffused his dazzling sheen. Ev'n sad vicissitude amused his soul ; And if a sigh would sometimes intervene. And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wislvd. not to control. xxirr. •• O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom !' v (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.) » ; Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom* " Of late so grateful in the hour of drought ? " Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought " To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake ? " Ah ! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought ? '• For now the storm howls mournful through the brake. * And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake, XXIV. " Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, " And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty,. crown M 2- " Ah ! see, th 9 unsightly slime, and sluggish pool, l a Have all the solitary vale imbrowird ; " Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound, " The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray, " And hark ! the river, bursting every mound, " Down the vale thunders, and, with wasteful sway, : - T'proots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away tt BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XXV. a Yet such the destiny of all on earth : •• So flourishes and fades majestic Man. 44 Fair is the hud his vernal morn brings forth, * 4 And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan. " O smile, ye heavens, serene : ye mildews wan, u Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime , 44 Nor lessen of his life the little span. 44 Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of time, •• Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime. XXVI. " And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, " Whose hopes still grovel in this dark sojourn. 44 But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, 44 Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. 44 Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return ? 44 Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed ? " Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, 44 And spring shall soon her vital influence shed-, " Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead-. XXVII. « Shall I be left forgotten in the dust, 44 When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ? « Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, 44 Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live ? 44 Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive 44 With disappointment, penury and pain r — 64 No : Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive, 44 And man's majestic beauty bloom again, f* Bright through th' eternal year of Love's triumphant reign." BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 55, XXVIIL This truth sublime his simple sire had taught, In sooth. 'twas almost all the shepherd knew, No subtle nor superfluous lore he sought, Nor ever wish'd his Edwin to pursue. u Let man's own sphere, said he, confine his view. H Be man's peculiar work his sole delight." And much, and oft, he warn'd him, to eschew Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, By pleasure unreduced, unawed by lawless might. XXIX. i; And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wee, " O never, never turn away thine ear, " Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below, " Ah ! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear ! « To others do (the law is not severe) " What to thyself thou wishest to be done. a Forgive thy foes ; and love thy parents dear, " And friends, and native land ; nor those alone ; j* All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine own." XXX. See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower. The visionary boy from shelter fly ! For now the storm of summer rain is o'er, And cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky ! And lo ! in the dark east, expanded high, The rainbow brightens to the setting sun ; Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh. How vain the ehace thine ardor has begun ! *TU fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be rum 54 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XXXI. Yet couldst thou learn, that thus it fares with age. When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm. This baffled hope might tame thy manhood's rage, And disappointment of her sting disarm. But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm ?■ Perish the lore that deadens young desire ! Pursue, poor imp, th' imaginary charm, Indulge gay hope, and fancy's pleasing fire : Fancy and hope too soon shall of themselves expire. XXXII. When the long sounding curfew from afar Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale, Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,. Lingering and listening, wander'd down the vale. There would he dream of graves, and corses pale ; And ghosts, that to the charnel-dungeon throng, And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail, Till silenced by the owl's terrific song, Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along. XXXIII. Or, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed, Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep, To haunted stream, remote from man he hied, Where fays of yore their revels wont to keep ;■ And there let fancy rove at large, till sleep A vision brought to his entranced sight, And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep Shrill to his ringing ear ; then tapers bright, With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night. XXXIV. Anon in view a portal's blazon 'd arch Arose, the trumpet bids the valves unfold i BEAUTIES OF POETRY. S3 And forth an host of little w arriors march, Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold. Their k)ok was gentle, their demeanor bold, And green their helms, and green their silk attire : And here and there, right venerably old, The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire, And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire, XXXV, "With merriment, and song, and timbrels clear, A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance ; The little warriors doff the targe and spear, And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance. They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance ; To right, to left, they thrid the flying maze ; Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance Rapid along : with many color'd rays Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze, XXXVI. The dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day, "Who scaredst the vision with thy clarion shrilL Fell chanticleer ! who oft hast reft away My fancied good, and brought substantial ill ! O to thy cursed scream, discordant still, Let harmony aye shut her gentle ear : Thy boastful mirth let jealous rivals spill, Insult thy crest, and glossy pinions tear, And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear. XXXVII. Forbear, my Muse. Let love attune thy line. Revoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so. For how should he at wicked chance repine. /Who feels from every change amusement flov, : >56 BEAUTIES OF POETRV. Ev'n now his eyes with smiles of rapture glow. As on he wanders through the scenes of morn, Where the fresh flowers in living lustre blow, Where thousand pearls the dewy lawns adorn, A thousand notes of joy in every breeze are borne. XXXVIII. But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain's side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell 5 The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. XXXIX. The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; Crown'd with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings, The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and, hark ! Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings ; Through rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs ; Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour 5 The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour. XL. O Nature, how in every charm supreme ! Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ! O for the voice and fire of seraphim, To sing thy glories with devotion due ! Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew. Vrom Pyrrho'3 mare, and Epicurus' sty; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And held high converse with the godlike few, "Who, to th' enraptured heart, and ear, and eye, Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody, XLI. Hence ! ye who snare and stupify the mind, Sophists, oi" beauty, virtue, joy, the bane ! Greedy and fell, though impotent and blind, "Who spread your filthy nets in Truth's fair fane, And ever ply your venom'd fangs amain ! Hence to dark Error's den, whose rankling slime . First gave you form 1 hence ! lesr the Muse should deign (Though loth on theme so mean to waste a rhyme) With vengeance to pursue your sacrilegious crime, XLI1. But hail, ye mighty masters of the lay, Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth ! Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay, Amused my childhood, and infornvd my youth. O let your spirit still my bosom soothe, Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide ! Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth ; For well I know, wherever ye reside, There harmony, and peace, and innocence, abide. XLIII. Ah me ! neglected on the lonesome plain, As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore. Save when, against the winter's drenching rain And driving snow, the cottage shut the door. Then, as instructed by tradition hoar, Her legends when the Beldam 'gan impart, Or chant the old heroic dittv o'er, F 58 BEAUTIES OF POETRF. Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart; Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art. XLIV. Various and strange was the long-winded tale ; And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed ; Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale, And sing enamor'd of the nut-brown maid ; The moon -light revel of the fairy glade ; Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood, And ply in caves th' unutterable trade,* Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood, Yell in the midnight storm, or ride th' infuriate flood. XLV. But when to horror his amazement rose, A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse, A tale of rural life, a tale of woes, The orphan -babes, and guardian uncle fierce. O cruel ! will no pang of pity pierce That heart by lust of lucre sear'd to stone ! For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse, To latest times shall tender souls bemoan Those helpless orphan-babes, by thy fell arts undone. XLVI. Behold, with berries smear'd, with brambles torn,t The babes, now famish'd, lay them down to die. 'Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn, Folded in one another's arms they lie 5 Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry : * Macbeth. H010 no-w, ye secret, black, and midnight hagS, * What is't you do ? Witches. A deed without a name. \ See the Jim old~balSad t called, "tThe Children in the Wood." BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 59 (i For from the town the man returns no more." But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance darest defy, This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore, When death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store. XLVII. A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy Brighten'd one moment Edwin's starting tear.— " But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy, 6i And innocence thus die by doom severe ?" O Edwin ! while thy heart is jet sincere, Th' assaults of discontent and doubt repel : Dark ev'n at noontide is our mortal sphere ; r But let us hope, — to doubt, is to rebel, — Let U9 exult in hope, that all shall jet be well. XLVIII. Nor be thy generous indignation check'd. Nor check'd the tender tear to misery given ; From guilt's contagious power shall that protect, This soften and refine the soul for heaven. But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt has driven To censure fate and pious hope forego : Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, Perfection, beauty, life, they never know, But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe, XLIX. Shall he, whose birth, maturity, and age, Scarce fill the circle of one summer day, Shall the poor gnat with discontent and rage Exclaim, that Nature hastens to decay, If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray, If but a momentary shower descend ? to BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Or shall frail man Heaven's dread decree gainsay.: Which bade the series of events extend Wide through unmimber'd worlds, and ages without end ? L. One part, one little part, we dimly scan Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream ; Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, If but that little part incongruous seem. Is or is that part perhaps what mortals deem 5 Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise. then renounce that impious self-esteem, That aims to trace the secrets of the skies : For thou art but of dust ; be humble, and be wise. LI. Thus Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years, For Nature gave him strength and fire, to soar, On Fancy's wing, above this vale of tears; "Where dark, cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore Through microscope of metaphysic lore : And much they grope for truth, but never hit. For why ? their powers, inadequate before, This idle art makes more and more unfit ; Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders wit. LII. Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth ; Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device, Oft cheer'd the shepherds round their social hearth 5 "Whom levity or spleen could ne'er entice To purchase chat or laughter, at the price Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed, That Nature forms a rustic taste so uice. — BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 61 Ah ! had they been of court or city breed, Such delicacy were right marvellous indeed, LIII. Oft when the winter-storm had ceased to rave* He roain'd the snowy waste at even, to view The cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave High towering, sail along the horizon blue : Where, 'midst the changeful scenery ever new, Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries, More wildly great than ever pencil drew. Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size; And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise! LIV. Thence musing onward to the sounding shore., The lone enthusiast oft would take his way, Listening with pleasing dread to the deep roar Of the wide-weltering waves. In black array When sulphurous clouds roll'd on the vernal day, Ev'n then he hasten'd from the haunt of man, Along the trembling wilderness to stray, What time the lightning's fierce career began, And o'er Heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran . LV. Responsive to the sprightly pipe, when all In sprightly dance the village youth were join'd, Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall, From the rude gambol far remote reclined, Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind. Ah then, all jollity seem'd noise and folly. To the pure soul by Fancy's fire refined, Ah what is mirth but turbulence unholy, When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy ! Fft C : z BEAUTIES OF POETRY. LVI. Is there a heart that music cannot melt ? Alas ! how is that rugged heart forlorn ! Is there, who ne'er those mystic transports felt Of solitude and melancholy born ? He needs not woo the Muse ; he is her scorn. The sophist's rope of cobwebs he shall twine ; Mope o'er the schoolman's peevish page ; or ropurn, And delve for life, in Mammon's dirty mine ; £neak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine. LYII. For Edwin, Fate a nobler doom had planned : {Song was his favorite and first pursuit. The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand, And languish'd to his breath the plaintive flute ; His infant Muse, though artless, was not mute : Of elegance as yet he took no care ; For this of time and culture is the fruit ; And Edwin gain'd at last this fruit so rare ; As in some future verse I purpose to declare. LVIII. Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful, or new, Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky, By chance, or search, was ofFer'd to his view, He scann'd with curious and romantic eye. AVhate'er of lore tradition could supply From Gothic tale, or song, or fable old, Roused him, still keen to listen and to pry. At last, though long by penury control'd, And solitude, his soul her graces 'gan unfold, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 03 LIX. Thus on the chill Lapponian's dreary land. For many a long month lost in snow profound, Wfeen Sol from Cancer sends the season bland, And in their northern cave the storms are bound ; From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound. Torrents are hurl'd : green hills emerge ; and lo, The trees with foliage? cliffs with flowers are crown'd ; Pure rills, through vales of verdure, warbling go ; And wonder, love, and joy^the peasant's heart o'er- flow.* LX. Here pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while. The leisure hour is all that thou canst claim ; But on this verse if Montague should smile, New strains erelong shall animate thy frame ; And her applause to me is more than fame ; For still with truth accords her taste refined* At lucre or renown let others aim, I only wish to please the gentle mind, "Whom Nature's charms inspire, and love of human- kind. * Spring and autumn are hardly kno-wn to the Laplanders. JLogvZ the time the swi enters Cancer, their fields, -which a week before -were covered -with snow, appeal' on a sudden full of grass cmdfio?vers-°~- ScUeffer's History of Lapland, p. 16. 64 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. THE MINSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. BY JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D. BOOK II. I. OF chance or change O let not man complain ; £lse shall he never, never cease to wail : For, from th' imperial dome, to where the swain Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale. All feel th' assault of Fortune's fickle gale ; Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doom'd ; Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale, And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entomb'd, And, where th' Atlantic rolls, wide continents have bloom'd.* II. But sure to foreign climes we need not range, Nor search the ancient records of our race, To learn the dire effects of time and change, Which in ourselves, alas ! we daily trace. Yet, at the darken'd eye, the wither'd face, Or hoary hair, I never will repine : But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace, Of candor, love, or sympathy divine, Whate'er of fancy's ray, or friendship's flame, is mine, * See Plato's Timeus. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 6.5 III. So I, obsequious to Truth's dread command, Shall here, without reluctance, change my lay, And smite the Gothic lyre with harsher hand 5 Now when I leave that flowery path for aye Of childhood, where I sported many a day, Warbling and sauntering carelessly along 5 Where every face was innocent and gay, Each vale romantic, tuneful every tongue, Sweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin's infant song. IV. " Perish the lore that deadens young desire,-' Is the soft tenor of my song no more. Edwin, though loved of Heaven, must not aspire To bliss, which mortals never knew before. On trembling wings let youthful fancy soar, Nor always haunt the sunny realms of joy ; But now and then the shades of life explore, Though many a sound and sight of woe annoy, And many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy. V. Vigor from toil, from trouble patience grows. The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower, Some tints of transient beauty may disclose 5 But, all ! it withers in the chilling hour. Mark yonder oaks ! Superior to the power Of all the warring winds of beaven they rise, And from the stormy promontory tower, And toss their giant arms amid the skies, While each assailing blast increase of strength supj VI. And now the downy cheek and deepen'd voice Gave dignity to Edwin's blooming prime 5 66 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And walks of wider circuit were his choice, And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime. One evening as he framed the careless rhyme, It was his chance to wander far abroad, And o'er a lonely eminence to climb, Which heretofore his foot had never trode ; A vale appear'd below, a deep retired abode. VII. Thither he hied, enamor'd of the scene : For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell, Here scorch'd with lightning, there with ivy green* Fenced from the north and east this savage dell ; Southward a mountain rose, with easy swell, Whose long, long groves eternal murmur made ; And toward the western sun a streamlet fell, Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, survey'd Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold array M. VIII. Along this narrow valley you might see The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground. And, here and there, a solitary tree, Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crown'd. Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound Of parted fragments tumbling from on high ; And from the summit of that craggy mound The perching eagle oft was heard to cry, Or on resounding wings to shoot athwart the skj: IX. One cultivated spot there was, that spread Its flowery bosom to the noon-day beam, Where many a rose-bud rears its blushing head. And herbs for food with future plenty teem. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 6r Soothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream, Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul : He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam, Nor heard from far the twilight curfew toll ; — When slowly on his ear these moving accents stole : « Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, " And woo the weary to profound repose ; " Can, Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, a And whisper comfort to the man of woes ! u Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, a And Contemplation soar on seraph wings. " O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes, " When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, 1 Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs. XI. 6i Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire ? " Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid : — " To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire ? " It is thy weakness that requires their aid : — " To palaces, with gold and gems inlay'd ? " They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm : — " To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade ? w Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm ! ; Behold, what deeds of woe the locust can perform i XII. " True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind " Virtue has raised above the things below, " Who, ever} r hope and fear to Heaven resign'd, * Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest How/' G8 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. —This strain from midst the rocks was heard to flow In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star 5 And from embattled clouds emerging slow, Cynthia came riding on her silver car ; And hoary mountain cliffs shone faintly from afar. XIII. ">n did the solemn voice its theme renew; (While Edwin, wrapp-d in wonder, listening stood) tt Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu, " Scorn 71 by the wise, and.hated by the good! " Ye only can engage the servile brood i; Of Levity and Lust, who, all their days, « Ashamed of truth and liberty, have wooTI " And hugg71 the chain, that, glittering on their gaze, • ms to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal blaze. XIV. " Like them, abandon'd to Ambition's sway, <; I sought for glory in ihe paths of guile ; " And fawn'd and smiled, to plunder and betray, " Myself betraj d and plunder'd all the while; " So gnawM the viper the corroding file. <* But now, with pangs of keen remorse, I rue 4 » Those years of trouble and debasement vile.— " Yet why should I this cruel theme pursue ? " Fly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view. XV. " The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care, fc - And storms of disappointment, all o'erpast, " Henceforth no earthly hope with Heaven shall shar u This heart, where peace serenely shines at last. t; And if for me no treasure be amass'd, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 69 - 1 ' And if no future age shall hear my name, •* I lurk the more secure from Fortune's blast, " And with more leisure feed this pious flame, AVhose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of fame. XVI. " The end and the reward of toil is rest. " Be all my prayer for virtue and for peace. " Of wealth and fame, of pomp and power possess'd? ii Who ever felt his weight of woe decrease ? " Ah ! what avails the lore of Rome and Greece, " The lay heaven-prompted, and harmonious strings " The dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece, * All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring, & If envy, scorn, remorse, or pride, the bosom wring ? XVII. ?■ Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb u With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, " In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome, * ; Where night and desolation ever frown, " Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down ; iC Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, '" With here and there a violet bestrown, " Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave : Ji And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave. XVIII. " And thither let the village swain repair; " And, light of heart, the village maiden gay, " To deck with flowers her half-dishevelPd hair ; " And celebrate the merry morn of May. i; There let the shepherd's pipe the live-long day " Fill all the grove with love's bewitching woe 5 G 70 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. " And when mild evening comes with mantle gra \ . « Let not the blooming band make haste to go ; w No ghost nor spell my long and last abode shall know . XIX. « For, though I fly to 'scape from Fortune's rage, " And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn, * Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage, " Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn : « For virtue lost, and ruin'd man, I mourn. " O man, creation's pride, Heaven's darling child, " Whom Nature's best, divinest gifts adorn, " Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled, « And all thy favorite haunts with blood and tears defiled ? XX. 4 * Along yon glittering sky what glory streams ! " What majesty attends night's lovely queen ! * ; Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams ; " And mountains rise, and oceans roll between, ** And all conspire to beautify the scene. ; * But, in the mental world, what chaos drear ! - ; W T hat forms, of mournful, loathsome, furious mien ! t; O when shall that eternal mom appear, " These dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to clear ! XXI. " O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven, ci In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light, 6i Rose from th' abyss ; when dark Confusion, driven 4! the scenes her art displays, To charm his fancy, or his heart engage. Here chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage,- And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn : Here smiling Virtue prompts- th' patriot's rage, But, lo ! erelong, is left alone to mourn, And languish in the dust, and clasp th' abandon'd urn. XXXIV. k - Ambition's slippery verge shall mortals tread, " Where ruin's gulf unfathom'd yawns beneath ? BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 75 " Shall life, shall liberty be lost," he said, " For the vain toys that Pomp and Power bequeath r " The car of victory, the plume, the wreath, u Defend not from the bolt of fate the brave : " No note the clarion of Renown can breathe, " T' alarm the long night of the lonely grave, " Or cheek the headlong haste of time's o'erwhelmin«; XXXV. " Ah, what avails," he said, " to trace the springs, " That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel ? K Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings, «s Hands drench 'd. in blood, and breasts begirt with steel ? " To those whom Nature taught to think and feel, a Heroes, alas ! are things of small concern. " Could history man's secret heart reveal, " And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn, * Her transcripts to explore, what bosom would not yearn ? XXXVI. 4i This praise, Cheronean sage,* is thine. " (Why should this praise to thee alone belong ; ) u All else from Nature's moral path decline, " Lured by the toys that captivate the throng; " To herd in cabinets and camps, among *• Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride ; t; Or chant of heraldry the drowsy song, " How tyrant blood, o'er many a region wide, " Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide. " mutarcfu T6 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, XXXVII. " who of man the story will unfold, " Ere victory and empire wrought annoy, " In that elysian age, (misnamed of gold) " The age of love, and innocence, and joy, " When all were great and free ! man's sole employ *• To deck the bosom of his parent earth ; w< Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy, " To aid the floweret's long-expected birth, '•' And lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of mirth. XXXVIII. li Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves, u Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent, " Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves, " His eyes still smiling, and his heart content. u Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labor went} ki Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave. " None prowl'd for prey, none watch 'd to circum- vent, " To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave : " No vassal fear'd his lord, no tyrant fear'd his slave. XXXIX. Ci But ah ! th' historic Muse has never dared " To pierce those hallow'd bowers : 'tis Fancy's beam « Pour'd on the vision of th' enraptur'd bard, " That paints the charms of that delicious theme. " Then hail sweet Fancy's ray ! and hail the dream " That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe ! " Careless what others of my choice may deem,. " I long where Love and Fancy lead to go, M And meditate on Heaven y enough of earth I know." BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 7r XL. •• I cannot blame thy choice," the sage replied, M For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways, M And yet, even there, if left without a guide, " The young adventurer unsafely plays. " Eyes dazzled long by Fiction's gaudy rays, " In modest Truth no light nor beauty find. " And who, my child, would trust the meteor blaze, " That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind , - More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had sinned ? XLI. ■' Fancy enervates, wMU it soothes the heart; " And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight: •• To joy each heightening charm it can impart, " But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night. " And often where no real ills affright, ;; Its visionary fiends, an endless train, 4 * Assail with equal or superior might, " And, through the throbbing heart, and dizzy b*ain, And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mor- tal pain. XLIL " And yet, alas ! the real ills of life •-• Claim the full vigor of a mind prepared, M Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife, * Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard. w We fare on earth as other men have fared ; ■• "Were they successful ? Let not us despair. " AVas disappointment oft their sole reward ? »• Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare, ■ How they have borne the load ourselves are doom'd to bear. 78 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XLIII. " What charms th' historic Muse adorn, from spoil*,, ; < And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight, " To hail the patriot prince, whose pious toils, " Sacred to science, liberty, and right, " And peace, through every age divinely bright " Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind ! " Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height, " A lovelier scene, than virtue thus inshrined v * In power, and man with man, for mutual aid, com- bined ? YLIV. " Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reard ! " Hail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restraint ! " "Without you what were man ? A grovelling herd rt In darkness, wretchedness, and want, enchain'd. " Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reign'd " In arts unrivall'd : O, to latest days, " In Albion may your influence unprofaned " To godlike worth the generous bosom raise, * And prompt the sage's lore, and fire the poet's lays. XLV. " But now let other themes our care engage. " For, lo ! with modest yet majestic grace, " To curb Imagination's lawless rage, « And from within the cherish'd heart to brace, " Philosophy appears. The gloomy race " By Indolence and moping Fancy bred, " Fear, Discontent, Solicitude, give place, " And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead, " While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed*. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 79 XLVI. " Then waken from long lethargy to life ii The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought : " Then jarring appetites forego their strife, " A strife by ignorance to madness wrought. wi Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought " With fell revenge ; lust that defies control, fci With gluttony and death. The mind untaught " Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl m , ; As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul. XL VII. i; And Reason now through number, time, and space, " Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye, " And learns from facts compared the laws to trace, " Whose long progression leads to Deity. " Can mortal strength presume to soar so high ? " Can mortal sight, so oft bedimm'd with tears, " Such glory bear ? — for, lo ! the shadows fly " From nature's face ; confusion disappears, • And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears. XL VIII. i; In the deep windings of the grove, no more " The hag obscene and grisly phantom dwell ; " Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar " Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell ; 6 * No wizard mutters the tremendous spell, " Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon ; " Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell, " To ease of fancied pangs the laboring moon, < Or chase the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon. XLIX. *< Many a long-lingering year, in lonely isle, ••' Stunn'd with th' eternal turbulence of wfcves, 80 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. " Lo, with dim eyes that never learn'd to smile, " And trembling hands, the famish'd native craves *• Of Heaven his wretched fare : shivering in caves, ;t Or scorclrd on rocks, he pines from day to day*; 64 But Science gives the word ; and lo, he braves 4 * The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray, "• And to a happier land wafts merrily away. L. • ; And ev'n where Nature loads the teeming plain •• With the full pomp of vegetable store, •• Her bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane : 4i Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore, <• Stretch their enormous gloom; which to explore " Ev'n Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood ; " For there, each eyeball gleams with lust of gore, 4 * Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood, ** Plague lurks in every shade, and steams from every flood. LI. " 'Twas from Philosophy man learn'd to tame 4; The soil by plenty to intemperance fed. " Lo ! from the echoing axe, and thundering flame, " Poison and plague and yielding rage are fled. " The waters, bursting from their slimy bed, " Bring health and melody to every vale : '• And, from the breezy main and mountain's head, " Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale, 4; To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale. LII. u What dire necessities on every hand -'Our art, our strength, our fortitude, require ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. %1 « Of Foes intestine what a numerous band " Against this little throb of life conspire ! " Yet Science can elude their fatal ire <* Awhile, and turn aside Death's levell'd dart, • ; Soothe the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire, <• And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart, And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart. LIII. " Nor less to regulate man's moral frame, " Science exerts her all -composing sway 5 - Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame. 6i Or pines, to Indolence and Spleen a prey, " Or Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they ? " Flee to the shades of Academus' grove ; ki Where -cares molest not! discord melts away 6i In harmony, and the pure passions prove How sweet the words of truth breathed from the lips of Love. LIV. What cannot art and industry perform, When Science plans the progress of their toil ! They smile at penury, disease, and storm ; And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage Order transforms to anarchy and spoil, Deep-versed in man, the philosophic sage Prepares, with lenient hand, their frenzy to assuage, LV. " 'Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind, 4i From situation, temper, soil, and clime H g2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. « Explored, a nation's various powers can bind " And various orders, in one form sublime " Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time, « Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear « Th' assault of foreign or domestic crime, " While public faith, and public love sincere, " And industry and law maintain their sway severe/ LVI. Enraptured by the hermit's strain, the youth Proceeds the path of Science to explore. And now, expanding to the beams of Truth, New energies, and charms unknown before, His mind discloses : Fancy now no more Wantons on fickle pinion through the skies ; But, fixed in aim, and conscious of her power, Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise, Creation's blended stores arranging as she flies. LVII. Nor love of novelty alone inspires, Their laws and nice dependencies to scan ; For, mindful of the aids that life requires, And of the services man owes to man, He meditates new arts on Nature's plan ; The cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm, The flame of Industry and Genius fan, And Emulation's noble rage alarm, And the long hours of toil and solitude to charm. LVIII. But she, who set on fire his infant heart, And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared And bless'd the Muse, and her celestial art, Still claim'd th' enthusiast's fond and first regard. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 83 From Nature's beauties variously compared And variously combined, he learns to frame Those forms of bright perfection, which the bard, While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, Enamor'd consecrates to never-dying fame. LIX. Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show, Edwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface, Through ardor to adorn ; but Nature now r To his experienced eye a modest grace Presents, where ornament the second place Holds, to intrinsic worth and just design Subservient still. Simplicity apace Tempers his rage : he owns her charm divine, And clears th' ambiguous phrase, and lops th' un- wieldy line. LX. Fain would I sing, (much jtt unsung remains) What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole, When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains* His deep majestic melody Van roll : Fain would I sing, what transport storm'd his soul. How the red current throbb'd his veins along, When, like Pelides, bold beyond control, Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong, Homer raised high to heaven the loud, th' impetuous song. LXI. And how his lyre, though rude her first essays, Now skill'd to soothe, to triumph, to complain, * Firpl' 84 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Warbling at will through each harmonious ma?.e, Was taught to modulate the artful strain, I fain would sing : — but ah ! I strive in vain. Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound., — With trembling step, to join yon weeping train, I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, And, mix'd with shrieks of woe, the knells of deatli resound. LXII. Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, The soft amusement of the vacant mind ! He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn, He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined, Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind !* He sleeps in dust. — Ah, how should I pursue My theme ! to heart-consuming grief resign'd, Here on his recent grave I fix my view, And pour my bitter tears. — Ye flowery lays, adieu ! LXIII. Art thou, my Gregory, for ever fled ! And am I left to unavailing woe ! When fortune's storms assail this weary head, Where cares long since have shed untimely snow, Ah ! now for comfort whither shall I go ! No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. 'Tis meet that I should mourn ; — flow forth afresh mv tears. * This excellent person died suddenly, on the 10th of February % 17T3. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days nfta\ HEAUTIE3 OF POETRY. 85 JJV ELEGY WRITTEN IN Jl COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. BY THOMAS GRAY. THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that, from yonder ivy -mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such, as wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap* Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall bum. Or busy housewife p!y her evening care ; H2 86 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Nor children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke m T How jocund did they drive their teams afield ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Xor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Vwait alike th' inevitable hour : The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Xor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death ? Perhaps, in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Ifands that the rod of empire might have sway'd. Or waked to extacy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial eurrent of the soul. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 87 Full many a gem of purest raj serene, The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest 5 Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined : Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride, With incense kindled at the Muse'S flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd. Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd Muse r The place of fame and elegy supply ; 83 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonor'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate : Haply some hoary -headed swain may say — 6i Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, ki Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, " To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. " There at the foot of yonder nodding beech " That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, *'• His listless length at noontide would he stretch, u And pore upon the brook that babbles by. ; * Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, " Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 4i Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn, " Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. " One morn I missM him on the customed hill, " Along the heath, and near his favorite tree ; ;i Another came, nor yet beside the rill, " Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. b9 " The next, with dirges due, in sad array, " Slow through the church -yard path we saw him borne ; " Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay " Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown ; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere 5 Heaven did a recompence as largely send : He gave to misery all he had, a tear ; He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,' "There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his Father and his God. ODE TO ADVERSITY. BY THOMAS GRAY. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless Power. Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain. The proud arc taught to taste of pain. 90 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And purple tyrants vainly groan, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone. When first thy Sire to send on earth Virtue, his darling child, design'd, To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade to form her infant mind. Stern, rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore ; What sorrow was, thou badest her know : And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse ; and with them go The summer-friend, the flattering foe 5 By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom, in sable garb array'd, Immersed in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend : Warm Charity, the general friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Nor circled with the vengeful band, (As by the impious thou art seen) With thundering voice, and threatening mien. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 91 AVitli screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear ; Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there, To soften, not to wound my heart. The generous spark extinct revive, Teach me to love and to forgive, Exact my own defects to scan, "What others are to feel 5 — and know myself a man. FMRING TIME ANTICIPATED. A FABLE. BY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau^* If birds confabulate or no ; *Tis clear that they were always able To hold discourse, at least, in fable ; And ev'n the child who knows no better, Than to interpret by the letter A story of a cock and bull, Must have a most uncommon skull. • It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. — Rut what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses. 9* BEAUTIES OF POETRY. It chanced then, on a winter's day, But warm and bright, and calm as Mav, The birds, conceiving- a design To forestall sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove. Assembled on affairs of love, And with much twitter and much chatter. Began to agitate the matter. At length a Bullfinch, who could boast More years and wisdom than the most, Entreated, opening wide his beak, A moment's liberty to speak ; And, silence publicly enjoin'd, Deliver'd briefly thus his mind. ^ My friends ! be cautious how ye treat The subject upon which we meet; I fear we shall have winter yet A Finch, whose tongue knew no control. With golden wing and satin poll, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried What marriage means, thus pert replied. Methinks the gentleman, quoth she, Opposite in the apple-tree, By his good will, would keep us single Til yonder heaven and earth shall mingle. Or (which is likelier to befal) Till death exterminate us all. I marry without more ado, My dear Dick Redcap, what say you ? Dick heard, and, tweedling, ogling bridlin* 'Wmg short ro^stru^L^^ BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Attested, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. Their sentiments, so well express 'd, Influenced mightily the rest, All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But, though the birds were thus in haste, " The leaves came on not quite so fast, And destiny, that sometimes bears An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smiled on theirs. The wind, of late breathed gently forth, Now shifted east and east by north. -Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, Could shelter them from rain or snow ; Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chilPd, their eggs were addled Soon every father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, Parting without the least regret, Except that they had ever met, And learn'd, in future to be wiser, Than to neglect a good adviser. INSTRUCTION. Misses ! the tale that I relate, This lesson seems to carry — Choose not alone a proper mate, But proper time to marry. 94 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. THE SHRUBBERY. Written in a Time of Affliction. BY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. OH, happy shades — to me unblest 1 Friendly to peace, but not to me 1 How ill the scene that offers rest, And heart that cannot rest, agree ! This glassy stream, that spreading pine, Those alders quivering to the breeze, Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine, And please, if any thing could please. But fixM, unalterable care Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness every where, And slights the season and the scene. For all that pleased in wood or lawn, While peace possessed these silent bowers. Her animating smile withdrawn, Has lost its beauties and its powers. The saint or moralist should tread This moss-grown alley, musing, slow ; They seek, like me, the secret shade, But not, like me, to nourish woe ! Me fruitful scenes, and prospects waste, Alike admonish not to roam ; These tell me of enjoyments past, And those of sorrows yet to come. BKAUTIES OF POETRY. 95 REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN' ANt OF THE BOOKS. BY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose*- The spectacles set them unhappily wrong; l*he point in dispute was, as all the world knows, To which the said spectacles ought to belong. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning $ While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, So famed for his talent in nicely discerning In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind. Then holding the spectacles up to the court — Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is 5 in short, Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle. Again, would your lordship a moment suppose ('Tis a case that has happen'd, and may be again) That the visage or countenance had not a nose ! Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then ? On the whole it appears — and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn. 96 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them. Then, shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how) He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes : But what were his arguments few people know, For the court did not. think they were equally wise. So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or but — That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By day -light or candle-light — -Eyes should be shut .' OWEN OF CARRON. BY DR. LANGHORNE. I. ON Carron's side, the primrose pale, YVhy does it wear a purple hue ? Ye maidens fair of Marlivale, Why stream your eyes with pity's dew J Tis all with gentle Owen's blood, That purple grows the primrose pale % That pity pours the tender flood From each fair eye in Marlivale. The evening star sate in his eye, The sun his golden tresses gave. The north's pure morn her orient dye. To him who rests in vender grave ! BEAtfTIES OF POETRt. 97 Beneath no high historic stone, Though nobly born, is Owen laid, Stretch'd on the green wood's lap alone, He sleeps beneath the waving shade. There many a flowery race hath sprung. And fled before the mountain gale, Since first his simple dirge ye sung, Ye maidens fair of Mar li vale I Yet still, when May, with fragrant feet, Hath wander 'd o'er your meads of gold. That dirge I hear, so simply sweet, Far echoed from each evening fold. IL "Twa9 in the pride of William's days, When Scotland's honors flourislrd still, That Moray's Earl, with mighty sway, Bore rule o'er many a Highland hill. And far for him their fruitful store The fairest plains of Carron spread, In fortune rich, in offspring poor, An only daughter crown'd his bed. ! write not poor. — The wealth that flows, In waves of gold, round India's throne, All in her shining breast that glows, To Ellen's charms, were earth and stone- For her the youth of Scotland sigh'd, The Frenchman gay, the Spaniard grave, And smoother Italy applied, And many an English baron brave. In vain by foreign arts assail'd, No foreign loves her breast beguile, 98 BEAUTIES OF POETRY And England's honest valor fail'd, Paid with a cold but courteous smile. 4i Ah ! woe to thee, young Nithisdale, " That o'er thy cheek those roses- stray M. " Thy breath the violet of the vale, " Thy voice the music of the shade ! <- { Ah ! woe to thee, that Ellen's love " Alone to thy soft tale would yield ! • ; For soon those gentle arms shall proves * The conflict of a ruder field." "Twas thus a wayward sister spoke, And cast a rueful glance behind, As from her dimwood glen she broke, And mounted on the moaning wind. She spoke, and vanish'd. — More unmoved Than Moray's rocks, when storms invest, The valiant youth by Ellen loved, With aught that fear or fate suggest. For love, methinks, hath power to raise The soul above a vulgar state ! Th' unconquer'd banners he displays Control our fears, and fix our fate. IIL 'Twas when, on summer's softest eve,. Of clouds that wander M west away, Twilight with gentle hand did weave Her fairy robe of night and day — When ail the mountain gales were still, And the wave slept against the shore, And the sun, sunk beneath the hill, Left his last smile on LemHierinore — BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 99 Led by those waking dreams of thought, That warm the young unpractised breast, Her wonted bower sweet Ellen sought, And Carron murmur'd near, and soothed her into rest, IV. There is some kind and courtly sprite, That o'er the realm of fancy reigns, Throws sunshine on the mask of night, And smiles at slumber's powerless chains : *Tis told, and I believe the tale, At this soft hour the sprite was there, And spread with fairer flowers the vale, And fill'd with sweeter sounds the air. A bower he framed, (for he could frame "What long might weary mortal wight, Swift as the lightning's rapid flame Darts on the unsuspecting sight) Such bower he framed with magic hand, As well that wizard bard hath wove, In scene where fair Armida's wand Waved all the witcheries of love. Yet was it wrought in simple show ; Nor Indian mines nor orient shores Had lent their glories here to glow, Or yielded here their shining stores. All round a poplar's trembling arms The wild rose wound her damask flower ; The woodbine lent her spicy charms, That loves to weave the lover's bower. The ash that courts the mountain air, In all her painted blooms array M, XQO BEAUTIES OF POETRY. The wilding's blossom, blushing fair, Combined to form the flowery shade. With thyme that loves the brown hill's breast, The cowslip's sweet reclining head, The violet of sky woven vest, Was all the fairy ground bespread. But who is he, whose locks so fair Adown his manly shoulders flow ? Beside him lies the hunter's spear, Beside him sleeps the warrior's bow. He bends to Ellen — (gentle sprite, Thy sweet seductive arts forbear) He courts her arms with fond delight. And instant vanishes in air. V. Hast thou not found, at early dawn, Some soft ideas melt away, If o'er sweet vale, or flowery lawn, The sprite of dreams hath bid thee stray r Hast thou not some fair object seen, And when the fleeting form was past, Still on thy memory found its mein, And felt the fond idea last ? Thou hast — and oft the pictured view, Seen in some vision counted vain, Has struck thy wondering eye anew, And brought the long lost dream again. With warrior-bow, with hunter's spear, With locks adown his shoulders spread, Young Nithisdale is ranging near — He's ranging near yon mountain's head. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 101 Scarce had one pale moon pass'd away, And fiil'd her silver urn again, When in the devious chase to stray, Afar from all his woodland train, To Carron's banks his fate consign'd, And, all to shun the fervid hour, He sought some friendly shade to find, And found the visionary bower. VI. Led by, the golden star of love, Sweet Ellen took her wanted way* And in the deep defending grove Sought refuge from the fervid day. — Oh ! — who is he, whose ringlets fair Disordered o'er his green vest flow, Reclined in rest — whose sunny hair Half hides the fair cheek's ardent glow ? 5 Tis he, that sprite's illusive guest, (Ah me ! that sprites can fate control !} That lives still imaged on her breast, That lives still pictured in her soul. As when some gentle spirit fled From earth to breathe elysian air, And, in the train whom wc call dead, Perceives its long loved partner there — .Soft, sudden pleasure rushes o'er, Resistless, o'er its airy frame, To find his future fate restore The object of its former flame : So Ellen stood — less power to move Had he, who, bound in slumber's chain. 102 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Seem'd, haply, o'er his hills to rove. And wind his woodland chase again. She stood, hut trembled — mingled fear And fond delight and melting love Seized all her soul, she came not near, She came not near that fated grove. She strives to fly — from wizard's wand As well might powerless captive fly — The new cropped flower falls from her hand — Ah ! fall not with that flower to die. VII. Jrlast thou not seen some azure gleam Smile in the morning's orient eye, And skirt the reddening clouds' soft beam. What time the sun was hasting nigli ? Thou hast — and thou canst fancy well, As any Muse that meets thine ear, The soul-set eye of Nithisdale, "When, waked, it fix'd on Ellen near. Silent they gazed — that silence broke, " Hail, Goddess of these groves," he cried, ii let me wear thy gentle yoke, " O let me in thy service bide. " For thee I'll climb the mountain steep. " Unwearied chase the destined prey, ■' For thee I'll pierce the wild wood deep, " And part the sprayg that vex thy way. * ; For thee" — " O stranger, cease," she said, And swift away, like Daphne, flew ; But Daphne's flight was not delay 'd By aught that to her bosom grew. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 10 ■"fwas Atalanta's golden fruit, The fond idea that confined Fair Ellen's steps, and bless'd his suit, Who was not far, not far behind. VIII. O Love ! within those golden vales, Those genial airs where thou wast born. Where Nature, listening thy soft tales, Leans on the rosy breast of morn — Where the sweet smiles, the Graces dvvelJ v , And tender sighs the heart emove, In silent eloquence to tell Thy tale, soul-subduing Love ! Ah ! wherefore should grim Rage be nigh. And dark Distrust with changeful face ; And Jealousy's reverted eye, Be near thy fair, thy favor'd place ? IX. Earl Barnard was of high degree, And lord of many a Lowland hind, And long for Ellen love had he, Had love, but not of gentle kind. From Moray's halls her absent hour He watch'd with all a miser's care : The wide domain, the princely dower. Made Ellen more than Ellen fair. Ah wretch ! to think the liberal soul May thus with fair affection part ! Though Lothian's vales thy sway control, Know, Lothian is not worth me heart. Studious he marks her aSseut hour, And winding far where Carron flows, 104 BEAUTIES OP POETHY. Sudden he sees the fated bower, And red rage on his dark brow glows. For who is he ? — 'tis Nithisdale ! And that fair form with arm reclined On his ? — 'tis Ellen of the vale, 'Tis she (0 powers of vengeance !) kind. Should he that vengeance swift pursue ? No — that would all his hopes destroy ! Moray would vanish from his view> And rob him of a miser's joy. Unseen to Moray's halls he hies — He calls his slaves, his ruffian band, " And haste to yonder groves," he cries, « And ambush'd lie by Carron's strand. -•' What time ye mark, from bower or glen* " A gentle lady take her way, " To distance due, and far from ken, " Allow her length of time to stray. -• Then ransack straight that range of groves; " With hunter's spear, and vest of green, " If chance a rosy stripling roves — " Ye well can aim your arrows keen." And now the ruffian slaves are nigh, And Ellen takes her homeward way, Though stay'd by many a tender sigh, She can no longer, longer stay. Pensive, against yon poplar pale, The lover leans his gentle heart, Revolving many a tender tale, And wondering still how they could part. Three arrows pierced the desert air; Ere yet his tender dreams depart ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. lto And one struck deep his forehead fair, And one went through his gentle heart. love's waking dream is lost in sleep — He lies beneath yon poplar pale : Ah ! could we marvel ye should weep, Ye maidens fair of Marlivale ! X. When all the mountain gales were still, And the wave slept against the shore, And the sun, sunk beneath the hill, Left his last smile on Lemmermore ; Sweet Ellen takes her wonted way V Along the fairy -featured vale, 4 Bright o'er his wave does Carron play, And soon she'll meet her Nithisdale. She'll meet him soon — for at her sight Swift as the mountain deer he sped : The evening shades will sink in night — Where art thou, loitering lover, fled ? Oh ! she will chide thy trifling stay ; Ev'n hoav the soft reproach she frames : " Can lovers brook such long delay ? " Lovers that boast of ardent flames !" lie comes not — weary witli tlie chase, Soft slumber o'er his eyelids throws Her veil — we'll steal one dear embrace^ We'll gently steal on his repose. This is the bower — we'll softly tread — He sleeps beneath yon poplar pale- Lover, if e'er thy heart has bled, Thy heart will far forego my tale ! K 106 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XI. Ellen is not in princely bower, She's not in Moray's splendid train : Their mistress dear, at midnight hour, Her weeping maidens seek in vain. Her pillow swells not deep with down, For her no balms their sweets exhale : Her limbs are on the pale turf thrown, Press'd by her lovely cheek as pale. On that fair cheek, that flowing hair, That broom its yellow leaf hath shed. And the chili mountain's early air Blows wildly o'er her beauteous head. As the soft star of orient day, When clouds involve his rosy light, Darts through the gloom a transient ray, And leaves the world once more to night ; Returning life illumes her eye, And slow its languid orb unfolds — What are those bloody arrows nigh ? Sure bloody arrows she beholds ! What was the form so ghastly pale, That low beneath the poplar lay ? ? Twas some poor youth—" Ah Nithisdale ! ;J She said, and silent sunk away. XII. The morn is on the mountains spread, The woodlark trills his liquid strain — Can morn's sweet music raise the dead ? Give the set eye its soul again ? BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 107 A shepherd of that gentler mind, Which nature not profusely yields, Seeks in these lonely shades to find Some wanderer from his little fields. Aghast he stands — and simple fear O'er all his paly visage glides— fc * Ah me ! what means this misery here ? " What fate this lady fair betides ?" He bears her to his friendly home, When life, he finds, has but retired : With haste he frames the lover's tomb, For his is quite, is quite expired ! XIII. " hide me in thy humble bower," Returning late to life, she said 5 f* I'll bind thy crook with many a flower 5 " With many a rosy wreath thy head. ;; Good shepherd, haste to yonder grove, " And if my love asleep is laid, * ; Oh ! wake him not 5 but softly move " Some pillow to that gentle head. " Sure thou wilt know him, shepherd swain, " Thou know'st the sun rise o'er the sea — " But, oh ! no lamb in all thy train " Was e'er so mild, so mild as he. " His head is on the wood -moss laid ; " I did not wake his slumber deep — " Sweet sings the redbreast o'er the shade"—. " Why, gentle lady, Mould you weep ?" As flowers that fade in burning day, At evening find the dew-drop dear* 108 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. But fiercer feel the noontide ray, When soften'd by the nightly tear $ Returning in the flowing tear, This lovely flower, more sweet than they. Found her fair soul, and wandering near, The stranger, Reason, cross'd her way. Found her fair soul — Ah ! so to find, Was but more dreadful grief to know ! Ah ! sure the privilege of mind Cannot be worth the wish of woe, XIV. On melancholy's silent urn A softer shade of sorrow falls, But Ellen can no more return, No more return to Moray's halls. Beneath the low and lonely shade, The slow consuming hour she'll weep, Till nature seeks her last-left aid, In the sad, sombrous arms of sleep. " These jewels, all unmeet for me, " Shalt thou," she said, " good shepherd, take : a These gems will purchase gold for thee, " And these be thine for Ellen's sake. *• So fail thou not, at eve and morn, " The rosemary's pale bough to bring — " Thou know'st where I was found forlorn — " Where thou hast heard the redbreast sing. •• Heedful I'll tend thy flocks the while, " Or aid thy shepherdess's care, »• For I will share her humble toil, "' And I her friendly roof will share." BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 109 XV. And now two longsome years are pass'd In luxury of lonely pain — The lovely mourner, found at last, To Moray's halls is borne, again. Yet has she left one object dear, That wears Love's sunny eye of joy- Is Nithisdale reviving here ? Or is it but a shepherd's boy ? By Carron's side a shepherd's boy, He binds his vale -flowers with the reed 3 He wears Love's sunny eye of joy, And birth he little seems to heed. XVI. But ah ! no more his infant sleep Closes beneath a mother's smile, Who only when it closed would weep. And yield to tender woe the while. No more, with fond attention dear, She seeks th' unspoken wish to find % No more shall she, with pleasure's tear, See the soul waxing into mind. XVII. Does Nature bear a tyrant's breast ? Is she the friend of stern Control ? Wears she the despot's purple vest ; Or fetters she the free-born soul ? Where, worst of tyrants ! is thy claim In chains thy children's breasts to bind I Gavest thou the Promethean flame ? The incommunicable mind ! 3 10 BEAUTIES OF POETS*". Thy offspring are great Nature's — free. And of her fair dominion heirs ; Each privilege she gives to thee ; Know, that each privilege is theirs. They have thy feature, wear thine eye. Perhaps some feelings of thy heart ; And wilt thou their loved hearts deny To act their fajr, their proper part ? XVIII. The lord of Lothian's fertile vale. Ill-fated Ellen, claims thy hand : Thou know'st not that thy Nithisdale Was low laid by his ruffian-band. And Moray, with unfather'd eyes Fix'd on fair Lothian's fertile dale, Attends his human sacrifice, Without the Grecian painter's veil. O married love ! thy bard shall own, Where two congenial souls unite, Xiiy golden chain's inlaid with down, Thy lamp's with heaven's own splendor brighr But if no radiant star of love, O Hymen ! smile on thy fair rite, Thy chain a wretched weight shall prove, Thy lamp a sad sepulchral light. XIX. And now has Time's slow wandering wing Borne many a year unmark'd with speed- Where is the boy by Carron's spring, Who bound his vale-flowers with the reed ? BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Hi Aii me ! those flowers he binds no more ; No early charm returns again ; The parent, Nature, keeps in store Her best joys for her little train. No longer heed the sun-beam bright That plays on Carron's breast he can, Reason has lent her quiver'd light, And shewn the chequer'd field of man, XX. As the first human heir of earth With pensive eye himself survey M, And, all unconscious of his birth, Sate thoughtful oft in Eden's shade : In pensive thought so Owen stray M Wild Carron's lonely woods among, And once, within their greenest glade, He fondly framed this simple song : XXI. Why is this crook adorn'd with gold ? Why am I tales of ladies told ? Why does no labor me employ, If I am but a shepherd's boy ? A silken vest like mine so green, In shepherd's hut I have not seen — Why should I in such vesture joy, If I am but a shepherd's boy ? I know it is no shepherd's art His written meaning to impart — They teach me, sure, an idle toy*, If I am but a shepherd's boy. U2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. This bracelet bright that binds my arm — It could not come from shepherds farm ; It only would that arm annoy, If I were but a shepherd's boy. And, thou silent picture fair, That lovest to smile upon me there ! O say, and fill my heart with joy, That I am not a shepherd's boy. XXII. Ah lovely youth ! thy tender lay May not thy gentle life prolong ; Seest thou yon nightingale a prey, The fierce hawk hovering o'er his song ? His little heart is large with love : He sweetly hails his evening star, And fate's more pointed arrows move* Insidious from his eye afar. XXIII. The shepherdess, whose kindly care Had watch'd o'er Owen's infant breath, Must now their silent mansions share, Whom time leads calmly down to death. « tell me, parent, if thou art, " What is this lovely picture dear ? « Why wounds its mournful eye my heart, " Why flows from mine th' unbidden tear : " Ah ! youth ! to leave thee loth am I, " Though I be not thy parent dear ; " And would'st thou wish, or ere I die, « The story of thy birth to hear r BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 113 • % But it will make thee much he wail, " And it will make thy fair eye swell' 5 — She said, and told the woesome tale, As sooth as shepherdess might tell. XXIV. The heart, that sorrow doom'd to share. Has worn the frequent seal of woe, Its sad impressions learns to bear, And finds full oft its ruin slow. But when that seal is first impress'd, When the young heart its pain shall try, For the soft, yielding, trembling breast. Oft seems the startled soul to fly. Yet fled not Owen's — wild amaze In paleness clothed, and lifted hands, And horror's dread, unmeaning gaze, Mark the poor statue, as it stands. The simple guardian of his life Look'd wistful for the tear to glide, But when she saw his tearless strife, Silent, she lent him one — and died. XXV. " No, I am not a shepherd's boy," Awaking from his dream, he said, Ah, where is now the promised joy " Of this ? — for ever, ever fled ! •• picture dear ! for her loved sake " How fondly could my heart bewail • ; My friendly shepherdess; O wake, ••' And -tell me more of this sad tale. 114 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. " O tell me more of this sad tale — " No; thou enjoy thy gentle sleep ! " And I will go to Lothian's vale, " And more than all her waters weep." XXVI. Owen to Lothian's vale is fled — Earl Barnard's lofty towers appear — •» art thou there," the full heart said, " O ! art thou there, my parent dear r" Yes, she is there : From idle state Oft has she stolen her hour to weep ; Think how she " by thy cradle sate," And how she " fondly saw thee sleep." Now tries his trembling hand to frame Full many a tender line of love : And still he blots the parent's name, For that, he fears, might fatal prove. XXVII. O'er a fair fountain's smiling side, Reclined a dim tower clad with moss, "Where every bird was wont to bide, That languish'd for his partner's loss. This scene he chose, this scene assign'd A parent's first embrace to wait, And many a soft fear fill'd his mind, Anxious for his fond letter's fate. The hand that bore those lines of love, The well informing bracelet bore — Ah J may they not unprosperous prove ! Ah ! safely pass yon dangerous door ! BEAUTIES OF POETUY. 115 XXVIII. * ; She comes not ! — can she then delay ?" Cried the fair youth, and dropp'd a tear — ■ " Whatever filial love could say, " To her I said, and call'd her dear. " She comes— Oh ! No — encircled round, " 'Tis some rude chief, with many a spear : " My hapless tale that Earl has found — " Ah me ! my heart ! for her I fear." His tender tale that Earl had read, Or ere it reached his lady's eye, His dark brow wears a cloud of red, In rage he deems a rival nigh. ; Tis o'er — Those locks that waved in gold, That waved adown those cheeks so fair, Wreathed in the gloomy tyrant's hold, Hang from the sever'd head in air. That streaming head he joys to bear In horrid guise to Lothian's halls; Bids Ins grim ruffians place it there, Erect upon the frowning walls. The fatal tokens forth he drew — " Know'st thou these — Ellen of the vale ?" The pictured bracelet soon she knew, And soon her lovely cheek grew pale. The trembling victim straight he led, Ere yet her soul's first fear was o'er : He pointed to the ghastly head — She saw — and sunk, to rise no more ! 116 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. JEMMY DAWSON. BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. Captain James Dawsox, the amiable and unfortunate subject of these beautiful stanzas, was one of the eight officers belonging t<» the Manchester regiment of volunteers, in the service of the Young- Chevalier, who were hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kenning- ton Common, in the year 1749. — And this ballad, written about the time, was founded on a remarkable circumstance which actu- ally happened at his execution. COME listen to my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear. Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, Nor will you blush to shed a tear. And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, Do thou a pensive ear incline ; For thou canst weep at every woe, And pity every plaint but mine. Young Dawson was a gallant youth, A brighter never trod the plain 5 And well he loved one charming maid, And dearly was he loved again. One tender maid she loved him dear, Of gentle blood the damsel came, A no faultless was her beauteous form, And spotless was her virgin fame. But curse on party's hateful strife, That led the favor'd youth astray, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. A 17 The day the rebel clans appeared : O had he never seen that day ! Their colors and their sash he wore. And in the fatal dress was found 5 And now he must that death endure, Which gives the brave the keenest wound. How pale was then his true-love's cheek, When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear ! For never yet did Alpine snows So pale, nor yet so chill appear. With faltering voice she weeping said, * O Dawson, monarch of my heart, - Think not thy death shall end our loves, " For thou and I will never part. £ Yet might sweet mercy find a place, " And bring relief to Jemmy's woes, I 0, George, without a prayer for thee " My orisons should never close. g The gracious prince that gives him life, " Would crown a never-dying flame, •• And every tender babe I bore " Should learn to lisp the giver's name. But though, dear youth, thou should'st be draggM " To yonder ignominious tree, I Thou shalt not want a faithful friend 4; To share thy bitter fate with thee." J then her mourning coach was call'd. The sledge moved slowly on before ', Though borne in a triumphal car. She had not loved her favorite more, L 118 BEAUTIES OF POETRY She follow'd him, prepared to view The terrible behests of law : And the last scene of Jemmy's woes With calm and stedfast eye she saw. Distorted was that blooming face, Which she had fondly loved so long; And stifled was that tuneful breath, Which in her praise had sweetly sung : And sever'd was that beauteous neck, Round which her arms had fondly closed ; And mangled was that beauteous breast, On which her love-sick head reposed : And ravish'd was that constant heart, She did to every heart prefer ; For though it could its king forget, 'Twas true and loyal still to her. Amid those unrelenting flames She bore this constant heart to see ; But when 'twas moulder'd into dust, " Now, now," she cried, " I follow thcc. « My death, my death alone can show « The pure and lasting love I bore ; " Accept, O Heaven, of woes like our9, " And let us, let us weep no more." The dismal scene was o'er and past, The lover's mournful hearse retired ; The maid drew back her languid head, And, sighing forth his name, expired. Though justice ever must prevail, The tear my Kitty sheds is due ; For seldom shall she hear a tale So sad, so tender, and so true. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 119 A PASTORAL BALLAD, IN FOU& PARTS* BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. Jirbusta hv/miksquemynca* ViRG> I. ABSENCE. I. YE shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never carelessly roam ; Should Corydon's happen to stray, Oh ! call the poor wanderers home. Allow me to muse and to sigh, Nor talk of the change that ye find 5 None once was so watchful as I : — I have left my dear Phyllis behind. II. Now I know what it is to have strove With the torture of doubt and desire 5 What it is to admire and to love, And to leave her we love and admire. Ah, lead forth my flock in the morn, And the damps of each evening repel ; Alas ! I am faint and forlorn : I have bade my dear Phyllis fare we!. III. Since Phyllis vouchsafed me a look, I never once dream'd of my vine ; May I lose both my pipe and my crook; If I knew of a kid that was mine. 120 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, I prized every hour that went by, Beyond all that pleased me before ; But now they are past, and I sigh ; And I grieve that I prized them no more, IV. But why do I languish in vain ? Why wander thus pensively here ? Oh ! why did I come from the plain, Where I fed on the smiles of my dear ? They tell me, my favorite maid, The pride of that valley, is flown ; Alas ! where with her I have stray'd, I could wander, with pleasure, alone. V. When forced the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at my heart ! Vet I thought — but it might not be so — 'Twas with pain that she saw me depart.. She gazed, as I slowly withdrew j My path I could hardly discern j So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return. VI. The pilgrim that journeys all day To visit some far distant shrine, If he bear but a relique away, Is happy, nor heard to repine. Thus widely removed from the fair, Where my vows, my devotion, I owe. Soft hope is the relique I bear, And my solace wherever I go. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 121 II. HOPE. I. , My banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whose murmur invites one to sleep ; My grottos are shaded with trees, And my hills are white over with sheep. I seldom have met with a loss, Such health do my fountains bestow 5 My fountains are border'd with moss, Where the harebells and violets grow. II. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But with tendrils of woodbine is bound : Not a beech's more beautiful green, But a sweet-briar twines it around. Not my fields, in the prime of the year, More charms than my cattle unfold : Not a brook that is limpid and clear, But it glitters with fishes of gold. III. One would think she might like to retire To the bower I have labor'd to rear 5 Not a shrub that I heard her admire, But I hasted and planted it there. O how sudden the jessamin strove With the lilac to render it gay ! Already it calls for my love, To prune the wild branches away. IV. From the plains, from the woodlands and groves, What strains of wild melody flow ! How the nightingales warble their loves From thickets of roses that blow ! JL2 1M BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And when her bright form shall appear, Each bird shall harmoniously join In a concert so soft and so clear, As — she may not be fond to resign. 1 have found out a gift for my fair ; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed : But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed. For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd, Who could rob a poor bird of its young ; And I loved her the more, when I heard Such tenderness fall from her tongue. VI. I have heard her with sweetness unfold. How that pity was due to — a dove 5 That it ever attended the bold, And she call'd it the sister of love. But her words such a pleasure cV^ivey, So much I her accents adore, Let her speak, and whatever she say, Methinks I should love her the more. VIL Can a bosom so gentle remain Unmoved, when her Corydon sighs ? Will a nymph that is fond of the plain, These plains and this valley despise ? Dear regions of silence and shade ! Soft scenes of contentment and ease ! Where I could have pleasingly stray'd, If aught, in her absence, could please. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. VIII. But where does my Phyllida stray ? And where are her grots and her bowers ? Are the groves and the valleys as gay, And the shepherds as gentle as ours ? The groves may perhaps be as fair, And the face of the valleys as fine ; The swains may in manners compare, But their love is not equal to mine. III. SOLICITUDE. I. Why will you my passion reprove ? Why term it a folly to grieve ? Ere I show you the charms of my love. She is fairer than you can believe ! With her mien she enamors the brave : With her wit she engages the free ; With her modesty pleases the grave ; She is every way pleasing to me. II. you that have been of her train, Come and join in my amorous lays ; 1 could lay down my life for the swain, That will sing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town Come trooping, and listen the while ; Nay, on him let not Phyllida frown : — But I cannot allow her to smile. III. For when Paridel tries, in the dance. Anv favor with Phyllis to find; 124 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. O how, with one trivial glance, Might she ruin the peace of my mind ! In ringlets he dresses his hair, And his crook is bestudded around ; And his pipe — oh, may Phyllis beware Of a magic there is in the sound. IV. 'Tis his with mock passion to glow ; 'Tis his, in smooth tales, to unfold, " How her face is as bright as the snow, " And her bosom, be sure, is as cold ! " How the nightingales labor the strain, " With the notes of his charmer to vie 5 " How they vary their accents in vain, " Repine at her triumphs, and die." V. To the grove or the garden he strays, And pillages every sweet 5 Then, suiting the wreath to his lays, He throws it at Phyllis's feet. iC Phyllis," he whispers, " more fair, " More sweet than the jessamin's flower ! « What are pinks, in a morn, to compare ? " What is eglantine, after a shower ? VI. {i Then the lily no longer is white 5 " Then the rose is deprived of its bloom ; " Then the violets die with despite, " And the woodbines give up their perfume." Thus glide the soft numbers along, And he fancies no shepherd his peer 5 —Yet I never should envy the song, Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, n5 VII. Let his crook be with h jacinths bound, So Phyllis the trophy despise ; Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd, So they shine not in Phyllis's eyes. The language that flows from the heart. Is a stranger to Paridel's tongue : — Yet may she beware of his art, Or sure I must envy the song. IV. DISAPPOINTMENT. I. Ye shepherds, give ear to my lay, And take no more heed of my sheep : They have nothing to do, but to stray % I have nothing to do, but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove ; She was fair — and my passion begun ; She smiled — and I could not but love 5 She is faithless — and I am undone. II. Perhaps I was void of all thought ; Perhaps it was plain to foresee That a nymph so complete would be sought By a swain more engaging than me. All ! love every hope can inspire ; It banishes wisdom the while ! And the lip of the nymph we admire Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile. III. She is faithless, and I am undone ! Ye that witness the woes I endure, 26 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Let reason instruct you to shun "What it cannot instruct you to cure : "Beware how ye loiter in vain, Amid nymphs of an higher degree : It is not for me to explain How fair, and how fickle they be. IV. Alas ! from the day that we met, What hope of an end to my woes ! "When I cannot endure to forget The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain : The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me. V. The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows, Henceforth shall be Cory don's theme. High transports are shown to the sight, But we are not to find them our own ; Fate never bestow'd such delight, As I with my Phyllis had known. VI. ye woods, spread your branches apace 5 To your deepest recesses I fly ; 1 would hide with the beasts of the chase ; I would vanish from every eye. Yet my reed shall resound through the grove. With the same sad complaint it begun ; How she smiled, and I could not but love 5 Was faithless, and I am undone ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \%7 AN ODE. BY JOSEPH ADDISON, ESQ. THE spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. TV unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display ; And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale ; And nightly, to the listening earth, Repeats the story of her birth : Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets, in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though, in solemn silence, all Move round the dark terrestrial ball ; What though no real voice nor sound On this our earthly globe is found ; In Reason's ear, they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice ; For ever singing as they shine, ** The hand that made us is divine." 1£8 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. A NIGHT PIECE ON DEATH. BY DR. THOMAS PARNELJ,. BY the blue taper's trembling light, No more I waste the wakeful night, Intent with endless view to pore The schoolmen and the sages o'er ; Their books from wisdom widely stray, Or point, at best, the longest way. I'll seek a readier path, and go Where wisdom's surely taught below. How deep yon azure dies the sky ! Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie ; While through their ranks, in silver pride, The nether crescent seems to glide. The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe, The lake is smooth and clear beneath, Where once again the spangled show Descends to meet our eyes below. The grounds which on the right aspire, In dimness from the view retire : The left presents a place of graves, Whose wall the silent water laves. That steeple guides thy doubtful sight Among the livid gleams of night. There pass with melancholy state, By all the solemn heaps of fate, And think, as softly-sad you tread, Above the venerable dead, " Time was, like thee they life possess'd, " And time shall be that thou shalt rest." BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 129 Those graves, with bending osiers bound, That nameless heave the crumbled ground, Quick to the glancing thought disclose Where toil and poverty repose. The flat smooth stones that bear a name., The chisseFs slender help to fame, (Which, ere our set of friends decay, Their frequent steps may wear away) A middle race of mortals own, Men half ambitious, all unknown. The marble tombs that rise on high, Whose dead in vaulted arches lie, Whose pillars swell with sculptured stones. Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones, These (all the poor remains of state) Adorn the rich, or praise the great; Who, though on earth in fame they live, Are senseless of the fame they give. Ha ! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, The bursting earth unveils the shades ! All slow, and wan, and wrapp'd with shrouds, They rise in visionary crowds, . And all with sober accent cry, " Think, mortal, what it is to die." Now from yon black and funeral yew, That bathes the charnel house with dew, Methinks I hear a voice begin ; (Ye ravens, cease your croaking din, | Ye tolling clocks, no time resound O'er the long lake and midnight ground) It sends a peal of hollow groans, Thus speaking from among the bones : M 130 BEAUTIES OF POETRV. When men my scythe and darts supply, How great a king of fears am I ! They view me like the last of things, They make, and then they dread, my stings. Fools ! if you less provoked your fears, No more my spectre form appears. Death's but a path that must be trod, If man would ever pass to God ; A port of calms, a state of ease, From the rough rage of swelling seas. Why then thy flowing sable stoles, Deep-pendent cypress, mourning poles ; X.oose scarfs to fall athwart thy weeds, X«ong palls, drawn herses, cover'd steeds. And plumes of black, that as they tread, Nod o'er the scutcheons of the dead ? Nor can the parted body know, Nor wants the soul these forms of woe : As men who long in prison dwell, With lamps that glimmer round the cell, Whene'er their suffering years are run, Spring forth to greet the glittering sun : Such joy, though far transcending sense, Have pious souls at parting hence. On earth, and in the body placed, A few, and evil years they waste : But when their cares are cast aside, See the glad scene unfolding wide, Clap the glad wing and tower away; And mingle with the blaze of day. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. IS1 A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT. BY DR. THOMAS PARNELL. LOVELY, lasting peace of mind ! Sweet delight of human kind ! Heavenly born, and bred on high, To crown the favorites of the sky With more of happiness below, Than victors in a triumph know ! Whither, O whither art thou fled, To lay thy meek, contented head ? What happy region dost thou please To make the seat of calms and ease ? Ambition searches all its sphere Of pomp and state, to meet thee there. Increasing avarice would find Thy presence in its gold inshrined. The bold adventurer plows his way, Through rocks amidst the foaming sea, To gain thy love ; and then perceives Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. The silent heart which grief assails, Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales, Sees daisies open, rivers run, And seeks (as I have vainly done) Amusing thought ; but learns to know That solitude's the nurse of woe. No real happiness is found In trailing purple o'er the ground : 132 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, Or in a soul exalted high, To range the circuit of the sky, Converse with stars above, and know All nature in its form below ; The rest it seeks, in seeking dies, And doubts at last for knowledge rise. Lovely, lasting peace, appear ; This world itself, if thou art here. Is once again with Eden bless'd, And man contains it in his breast. 'Twas thus, as under shade I stood. I sung my wishes to the wood, And, lost in thought, no more perceived The branches whisper as they waved j It seem'd as all the quiet place Confess'd the presence of the Grace ; When thus she spoke — Go, rule thy will. Bid thy wild passions all be still, Know God — and bring thy heart to know The joys which from religion flow : Then every grace shall prove its guest. And I'll be there to crown the res^ Oh ! by yonder mossy seat, In my hours of sweet retreat. Might I thus my soul employ, With sense of gratitude and joy ; -Raised as ancient prophets were, In heavenly vision, praise, and prayer. Pleasing all men, hurting none, Pleased and bless'd with God alone; Then while the gardens take my sight. "With all the colors of delight : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Is* While silver waters glide along, To please my ear and court my song, I'll lift my voke, and tune my string. And thee, Great Source of Nature, sing. The sun that walks his airy way, To light the world and give the day $ The moon that shines with borrow'd light ; The stars that gild the gloomy night 5 The seas that roll unnumber'd waves ; The wood that spreads its shady leaves : The field, whose ears conceal the grain. The yellow treasure of the plain 5 All of these, and all I see, Should be sung, and sung by me : They speak their Maker as they can. But want and ask the tongue of man, Go, search among your idle dream*. Your busy or your vain extremes 5 And find a life of equal bliss, Or own the next begun in this. JIN ALLEGORY ON MAN BY DR. THOMAS PARNELL. A THOUGHTFUL being, long and spare, Our race of mortals call him Care, (Were Homer living, well he knew What name the gods have calPd him too ;) M2 134 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. With fine mechanic genius wrought, And loved to work, though no one bought. This being, by a model bred In Jove's eternal sable head, Contrived a shape empower'd to breath?, And be the worldling here beneath. The man rose staring, like a stake, Wondering to see himself awake ! Then look'd so wise, before he knew The business he was made to do ; That, pleased to see with what a grace He gravely show'd his forward face, Jove talk'd of breeding him on high, An under-something of the sky. But ere he gave the mighty nod, Which ever binds a poet's god, (For which his curls ambrosial shake, And mother Earth's obliged to quake) He saw old mother Earth arise ; She stood confess'd before his eyes ; But not with what we read she wore, A castle for a crown before, Nor with long streets and longer roads Dangling behind her like commodes : As yet with wreaths alone she dress*d, And trail'd a landscape -painted vest. Then thrice she raised, as Ovid said, And thrice she bow'd her weighty head* Her honors made, Great Jove, she cried. This thing was fashion'd from my side : His hands, his heart, his head, are mine 5 Then what hast thou to call him thine ? BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 135 Nay, rather ask, the monarch said, What boots his hand, his heart, his head ? Were what I gave removed away, Thy part's an idle shape of clay. Halves, more than halves ! cried honest Care.. Your pleas would make your titles fair ; You claim the body, you the soul ; But I who joinM them, claim the whole. Thus with the gods debate began, On such, a trivial cause as Man. And can celestial tempers rage (Quoth Yirgil) in a latter age ? As thus they wrangled, Time came by $ (There's none that paint him such as 1 5 For what the fabling ancients sung Makes Saturn old when Time was young :) As yet his winters had not shed Their silver honors on his head ; He just had got Ms pinions free From his old sire, Eternity. A serpent girdled round he wore. The tail within the mouth before ; By which our almanacs are clear That learned Egypt meant the year. A staff he carried, where on high A glass was fix'd to measure by, As amber boxes made a show For heads of canes an age ago. His vest, for day and night, was pied j t A bending sickle arnvd his side ; And spring's new month his train adorn 5 The other seasons were unborn. 136 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Known by the gods, as near he draws. They make him umpire of the cause. O'er a low trunk his arm he laid, Where since his hours a dial made ; Then, leaning, heard the nice debate, And thus pronounced the words of fate : Since body from the parent Earth, And soul from Jove received a birth, Return they where they first began ; But since their union makes the man, Till Jove and Earth shall part these two, To Care, who join'd them, man is due. He said, and sprung with swift career To trace a circle for the year ; "Where ever since the seasons wheel, And tread on one another's heel. 'Tis well, said Jove ; and, for consent, Thundering, he shook the firmament. Our umpire, Time, shall have his way ; With Care I let the creature stay : Let business vex him, avarice blind, Let doubt and knowledge rack his mind. Let error act, opinion speak, And want afflict, and sickness break, And anger burn, dejection chill, And joy distract, and sorrow kill ; Till, arm'd by Care, and taught to mow. Time draws the long destructive blow ; And wasted man, whose quick decay Comes hurrying on before his day, Shall only find by this decree, The soul flies sooner back to me. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 137 THE GARLAND. BY MATTHEW PRIOR, .THE pride of every grove I chose, The violet sweet, and lily fair, The dappled pink, and blushing rose. To deck my charming Chloe's hair. At morn the nymph voushsafed to place Upon her brow the various wreath ; The flowers, less blooming than her face, The scent, less fragrant than her breath. The flowers she wore along the clay $,. n And every nymph and shepherd said, That in her hair they look'd more gay Than glowing in their native bed. Undress'd at evening, when she found Their odors lost, their colors past 5 She changed her look, and on the ground Her garland and her eye she cast. That eye dropp'd sense, distinct and clear. As any Muse's tongue could speak, When, from its lids, a pearly tear Stole trickling down her beauteous check Dissembling what I knew too well, My love, my life, said I, explain This change of humor : pry thee tell : That failing tear— what does it mean r 138 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. She siglrd ; she smiled : and to the flowers Pointing, the lovely moralist said, See, friend, in some few fleeting hours, See yonder, what a change is made. Ah me ! the hlooming pride of May, And that of beauty, are hut one ; At morn, both flourish bright and gay ; Both fade at evening, pale, and gone. At dawn, poor Stella danced and sung; The amorous youth around her bowM : At night her fatal knell was rung : I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud. Such as she is, who died to-day, Such I, alas, may be to-morrow. Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display The justice of tliy Chloe's sorrow. ,bijj p ! A DIRGE IK CYMBEUNE. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. I. X fair Fidele's grassy tomb, Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. II. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 159 But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. III. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew : The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew ! IV. The redbreast, oft at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid : .With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid. V. When howling winds, and beating rain, In tempests shake the sylvan cell : Or, 'midst the chase of every plain, The tender thoughts on thee shall dwell. VI. Each lonely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed : Beloved, till life could charm no more : And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead. 140 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. ODE 0JV THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. I. IN yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave \ The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, To deck its Poet's sylvan grave ! II. In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp shall now be laid, That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, May love, through life, the soothing shade. III. Then maids and youths shall linger here, And, while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. IV. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When Thames in summer wreaths is drest. And oft suspend the dashing oar To bid his gentle spirit rest ! V. And oft as ease and health retire To breezy lawn, or forest deep, The friend shall view yon whitening spire, And, 'mid the varied landscape, weep. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 141 VI. But thou, who own'st that earthly bed, Ah I what will every dirge avail ? Or tears which love and pity shed, That mourn beneath the gliding sail ! VII. Vet lives there one, whose heedless eye Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near ? With him, sweet bard, may fancy die, And joy desert the blooming year. VIII. But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side, Whose cold turf hides the buried friend ! IX. *\nd see, the fairy valleys fade ; Dun night has veil'd the solemn view ! Yet once again, dear parted shade, Meek Nature's child, again adieu ! .The genial meads assign'd to bless Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom ! Their hinds and shepherd girls shall dress, With simple hands, thy rural tomb. XL Long, long thy stone and pointed clay Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes ; 9 ! vales and wild woods, shall he say. In yonder grave your Druid lies ! N fa BEAUTIES OF POETRY. TOMORROW. BY DR. COTTON. Pereunt et Imputantw. TO-MORROW, didst thou say ? Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow. Go to-I will not hear of it-To-morrow ! >Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury Against thy plenty-who takes thy ready cash, And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises, The currency of idiots— Injurious bankrupt, That gulls the easy creditor 1-To-morrow ! It is a period no where to be found In all the hoary registers of Time, Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 'Tis fancy's child, and folly is its father ; Wrought of such stuff as dreams are ; and baseles. As the 5 fantastic visions of the evening. But soft, my friend— arrest the present moments : For be assured, they all are arrant tell-tales; And though their flight be silent, and their path Trackless, as the wing'd couriers of the air, They post to heaven, and there record thy folly. Because, though station'd on th' important watch, Thou, like a sleeping, faithless centinel, Didst let them pass unnoticed, unimproved. And know, for that thou slumber'dst on the guard, Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 143 For every fugitive : and when thou thus vShalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal Of hoodwinked Justice, who shall tell thy audit ? Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio ; Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. *Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precu aa Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. Oh ! let it not elude thy grasp, but like The good old patriarch upon record, Hold the fleet angel fast, until he bless &©«• THE BEJVEDICITE PARAPHRASED. BY THE REV. MR. MERRICK. I. YE works of God, on him alone, In earth his footstool, heaven his throne - Be all your praise bestow'd; Whose hand the beauteous fabric made, Whose eye the finish'd work surveyed, And saw that all was good. II. Ye angels, that with loud acclaim Admiring view'd the new-born frame. And hail'd th> Eternal King ; Again proclaim your Maker's praise Again your thankful voices raise. And touch the tuneful string. ,144 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. III. Praise him, ye blest ethereal plains, Where, in full majesty, he deigns To fix his awful throne : Ye waters, that above him roll, From orb to orb, from pole to pole, Oh ! make his praises known ! IV. Ye thrones, dominions, virtues, powers Join ye your joyful song with ours, With us your voices raise ; From age to age extend the lay, To heaven's eternal Monarch pay Hymns of eternal praise. V. Celestial orb ! — whose powerful ray Opes the glad eyelids of the day, Whose influence all things own; Praise him, whose courts effulgent shine With light, as far excelling thine, As thine the paler moon. VI. Ye glittering planets of the sky, Vvliose lamps the absent sun supply > With him the song pursue ; \nd let himself submissive own, He borrows from the brighter Sun The light he lends to you. VII. Ye showers and dews, whose moisture shed. Calls into life the opening seed, To him your praises yield : BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 14o Whose influence wakes the genial birth, Drops fatness on the pregnant earth, And crowns the laughing field. VIII. Ye winds, that oft tempestuous sweep The ruffled surface of the deep, With us confess your God ; See, through the heavens, the King of kings. Up-borne on your expanded wings. Comes flying all abroad. IX. Y'e floods of fire, where'er ye flow. With just submission humbly bow To his superior power ; Who stops his tempest on its way. Or bids the flaming deluge stray, And gives it strength to roar. X. Ye summer's heat, and winter's cold. By turns in long succession roll'd, The drooping world to cheer ; Praise him, who gave the sun and moon, To lead the various seasons on, And guide the circling year. XI. Ye frosts, that bind the watery plain, Ye silent showers of fleecy rain, Pursue the heavenly theme ; Praise him, who sheds the driven snow. Forbids the harden'd waves to flow, And stops the rapid stream. N 2 146 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XII. Ye days and nights, that swiftly borne From morn to -eve, from eve to morn, Alternate glide away ; Praise him, whose never varying light, Absent, adds horror to the night,. But present, gives the day. XIII. Light — from whose rays all beauty springs- Darkness — whose wide expanded wings Involve the dusky globe ; Praise him, who, when the heavens he spread. Darkness his thick pavilion made, And light his regal robe. XIV. Praise him, ye lightnings, as ye fly,. Wing'd with his vengeance through the sky-; And red with wrath divine ; Praise him, ye clouds, that wandering stray. Or, fix'd by him in close array, Surround his awful shrine. XXV. Exalt, earth ! thy heavenly King, Who bids the plants, that form the springs With annual verdure bloom ; Whose frequent drops of kindly rain, Prolific swell the ripening grain, And bless thy fertile womb. XVI. Ye mountains, that ambitious rise,. And heave your summits to the skies, Revere his awful no4 $ BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 147 Think how ye once affrighted fled, When Jordan sought his fountain head, And own'd th' approaching God. XVII. Ye trees, that fill the rural scene, Ye flowers, that o'er th' enamell'd green. In native beauty reign, O ! praise the ruler of the skies, Whose hand the genial sap supplies, And clothes the smiling plain. XVIII. Ye secret springs, ye gentle rills, That murmuring rise among the hills, Or fill the humble vale ; Praise him, at whose almighty nod The rugged rock dissolving flow'd, And form'd a springing well. XIX. Praise him, ye floods, and seas profound, Whose waves the spacious earth surround. And roll from shore to shore ; , Awed by his voice, ye seas, subside, Ye floods, within your channels glide, And tremble and adore. XX. U Ye whales, that stir the boiling deep, Or in its dark recesses sleep, Remote from human eye ; | Praise him, by whom ye all are fed, Praise him, without whose heavenly aid. Ye languish, faint, and die. 148 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XXL Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name, Begin, and with th' important theme Your artless lays improve 5 Wake with your songs the rising day, Let music sound on every spray, And fill the vocal grove. XXII. Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam Amid the solitary gloom, Th' expected prey to seize ; Ye slaves of the laborious plow, Your stubborn necks submissive bow, And bend your wearied knees. XXIII. Ye sons of men, his praise display, Who stamp'd his image on your clay, And gave it power to move ; Ye, that in Judah's confines dwell, From age to age successive tell The wonders of his love. XXIV. Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong, Till angels listen to the song, And bend attentive down ; Let wonder seize the heavenly train, Pleased, while they hear a mortal strain, So sweet, so like their own. XXV. And you, your thankful voices join, That oft, at Salem's sacred shrine, Before his altars kneel ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 149 Where, throned in majesty he dwells. And from the mystic cloud reveals The dictates of his will. XXVI. Ye spirits of the just and good, That, eager for the blest abode, To heavenly mansions soar 5 i let your songs his praise display r Till heaven itself shall melt away, And time shall be no more. XXVII. Praise him, ye meek and humble train. Ye saints, whom his decrees ordain The boundless bliss to share ; ! praise him, till ye take your way To regions of eternal day, And reign for ever there* XXVIII. Let us, who now impassive stand, Awed by the tyrant's stern command, Amid the fiery blaze ; While thus we triumph in the flame, Rise, and our Maker's love proclaim. In hymns of endless praise. 150 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. THE SPLENDID SHILLING. BY JOHN PHILLIPS. ■ Sing-, heavenly Muse ! " Tilings unattended yet, in prose or rhyme ;" A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire. HAPPY the man, who, void of cares and strife; In silken or in leathern purse, retains A Splendid Shilling; he nor hears with pain New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; But, with his friends, when nightly mists arise, To Junipers Magpye, or Town-hall,* repairs: Where, mindful of the nymph whose wanton eye Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames, Chloe, or Phyllis, in each circling glass Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love. Meanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. But I, whom griping penury surrounds, And hunger, sure attendant upon want, With scanty oftals and small acid tiff (Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain : Then solitary walk, or doze at home In garret vile, and with a warming puff Regale chill'd fingers ; or from tube as black As winter chimney, or well polish'd jet, Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent : * Two Ate-h arte. 3T2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Became in every hour acuter, Apollo look'd out for a tutor ; But had a world of pains to find This artist of the human mind. For, in good truth, full many an ass was Among the doctors of Parnassus, Who scarce had skill enough to teach Old Lilly's elements of speech ; And knew as much of men and morals As doctor Rock of ores and corals. At length, with much of thought and care, He found a master for his heir 5 A learned man, adroit to speak Pure Latin, and your Attic Greek ; Well known in all the courts of fame, And Criticism was his name. Beneath a tutor keen and fine as Or Aristotle, or Longinus, Beneath a lynx's eye, that saw The slightest literary flaw, Young Genius trod the path of knowledge. And grew the wonder of the college. Old authors were his bosom friends — He had them at his fingers' ends — Became an accurate imitator Of truth, propriety, and nature 5 Display 'd in every just remark The strong sagacity of Clark ; And pointed out the false and true With all the sun -beams of Bossu. But though this critic-sage refined His pupil's intellectual mind, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 1 rvi And gave him all that keen discerning Which marks the character of learning : Yet, as he read with much of glee The trifles of antiquity 5 And, Bentlj-like, would write epistles About the origin of whistles ; The scholar took his master's trim, And grew identically him ; Employ'd a world of pains to teach us What nation first invented breeches ; Asserted that the Roman socks Were broider'd with a pair of clocks ; That Capua served up with her victuals An olio of Venafran pickles ; That Sisygambis dress'd in blue, And wore her tresses in a queue. In short, he knew what Paulus Jovius, Salmasius, Graevius, and Gronovius, Have said in fifty folio volumes, Printed by Elzevir in columns. Apollo saw, with pride and joy, The vast improvement of his boy ; But yet had more than slight suspicion, That all this load of erudition Might overlay his parts at once, And turn him out a letter'd dunce. He saw the lad had fill'd his sense With things of little consequence ; That though he read, with application, The wits of every age and nation, And could, with nice precision, reach The boldest metaphors of speech ; Yet warp'd too much, in truth's defiance. From real to fictitious science, VTA BEAUTIES OF POETRY. He was, with all his pride and parts, A mere mechanic in the arts, That measures with a rule and line What nature meant for great and fine. Phoebus, who saw it right and wise was To counteract this fatal bias, fook home his son with mighty haste, And sent him to the school of Taste. This school was built by wealth and peace, Some ages since, in elder Greece, Just when the Stagy rite had writ His lectures on the powers of wit. Here, flush'd in all the bloom of youth* Sat beauty in the shrine of truth. Here, all the finer arts were seen, Assembled round their virgin queen. Here, sculpture, on a bolder plan, Ennobled marble into man. Here, music, with a soul on fire, Impassion 'd, breathed along the lyre; And here, the painter-muse display'd Diviner forms of light and shade. But, such the fate, as Hesiod sings, Of all our sublunary things, When now the Turk, with, sword and halters, Had drove Religion from her altars, And deluged, with a sea of blood, The academic dome and wood ; Affrighted Taste, with wings unfurl'd, Took refuge in the western world ; And settled on the Tuscan main, With all the muses in bis train. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 175 In this calm scene, where Taste withdrew. And Science trimm'd her lamp anew ; Young Genius ranged in every part The visionary worlds of art, And from their finish'd forms refined His own congenial warmth of mind, And learned, with happy skill, to trace The magic powers of ease and grace. His style grew delicately fine, His numbers flow'd along his line, His periods many, full, and strong, Had all the harmony of song. Whene'er his images betray'd Too strong a light, too weak a shade, Or in the graceful and the grand Confess'd inelegance of hand, His noble master, who could spy The slightest fault with half an eye. Set right, by one ethereal touch, What seem'd too little or too much; Till every attitude and air Arose supremely full and fair. Genius was now, among his betters. Distinguished as a man of letters. There wanted still, to make him please. The splendor of address and eaee, Th^ soul-enchanting mien and air, Such as we see in Grosvenor-Square, When Lidy Charlotte speaks and moves. Attended by a swarm of loves. Genius had got. to say the truth, A manuer awkward and unconth : 176 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Sure fate of all who love to dwell In wisdom's solitary cell : So much a clown in gait and laugh, He wanted but a scrip and staff; And such a beard as hung in candles Down to Diogenes's sandals, And planted all his chin €|uite thick, To be like him a dirty cynic. Apollo, who, to do him right, Was always perfectly polite, Chagrin'd to see his son and heir Dishonor'd by his gape and stare, Resolved to send him to Versailles, To learn a minuet of Marseilles : But Venus, who had deeper reading In all the mysteries of breeding, Observed to Phcebus, that the name Of fop and Frenchman was the same. French manners, were, she said, a thing which Those grave misguided fools, the English, Had, in despite of common sense, Mistook for manly excellence ; By which their nation strangely sunk is, And half their nobles turned to monkies. She thought it better, as the case was, To send young Genius to the graces : Those sweet divinities, she said, Would form him in the myrtle shade ; And teach him more, in half an hour, Than Lewis or his Pompadour. Phcebus agreed — the graces took Their noble pupil from his book. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, ITT Allow 'd him at their side to rove Along their own domestic grove, Amidst the sound of melting lyres, Soft-wreathing smiles, and young desires : And when confined by winds or showers Within their amaranthine bowers, They taught him with address and skill To shine at ombre and quadrille ; Or let him read an ode or play, To wing the gloomy hour away. Genius was charm'd — divinely placed 'Midst beauty, wit, politeness, taste ; And, having every hour before him The finest models of decorum, His manners took a fairer ply 5 Expression kindled in his eye ; His gesture, disengaged, and clean, Set off a fine majestic meinj And gave his happy power to please The noblest elegance of ease. Thus, by the discipline of art, Genius shone out in head and heart. Fornvd from his first fair bloom of youth. By Temperance and her sister Truth, He knew the scientific page Of every clime and every age ; And learn'd with critic -skill to rein The wildness of his native vein ; That critic-skill, though cool and chaste, Refined beneath the eye of Taste ; His unforbidding mien and air, His awkward gait, his haughty stare, Q 178 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And every stain that wit debases, "Were melted off among the graces ; And Genius rose, in form and mind, The first, the greatest of mankind. NOBILITY. A MORAL ESSAY. BY MR. CAWTHORN. ? TlS said that ere fair virtue learn M to sigh, The crest to libel, and the star to lie, The poet glow'd with all his sacred fire, And bade each virtue live along the lyre ; Led humble science to the blest abode, And raised the hero till he shone a god. Our modern bards, by some unhappy fate, Condemn "d to flatter every fool of state, Have oft, regardless of their heaven-born flame, Enthroned proud greatness in the shrine of fame ; Bestow'd on vice the wreaths that virtue wove, And paid to Nero what was due to Jove. Yet hear, ye great i whom birth and titles crown "With alien worth, and glories not your own ; Hear me affirm, that all the vain can show, All Anstis boasts of, and all kings bestow, All envy wishes, all ambition hails, All that supports St. James's, and Versailles, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 1*9 Can never give distinction to a knave, Or make a lord whom vice lias made a slave. In elder times, ere heralds jet enroll 'd The bleeding ruby in a field of gold, Or infant language pain'd the tender ear With sess, bend, argent, chev'ron, and saltier 5 *Twas he alone the bay's bright verdure wore, Whose strength subdued the lion or the boar 5 Whose art from rocks could call the mellowing grain, And give the vine to laugh along the plain ; Or, tracing nature in her moral plan, Explored the savage till he found the man. For him the rustic hind, and village maid, Stripp'd the gay spring of half its bloom and shade ; With annual dances graced the daisy -mead, And sung his triumphs on the oaten reed ; Or, fond to think him sprung from yonder sky, Rear'd the turf fane, and bade the victim die. In Turkey, sacred as the Koran's page, These simple manners live through every age : The humblest swain, if virtue warms the man, May rise the genius of the grave Divan ; And all but Othman*s race, the only proud, Full with their sires, and mingle with the crowd. For three campaigns Kaprouli's hand display'd The Turkish crescent on thy walls, Belgrade ! Imperial Egypt own'd him for her lord, And Austria trembled if he touclvd the sword : Yet all his glories set within his grave, One son a janizary, one a slave. Politer courts, ingenious to extend The father's glories, bid his pomp descend ; 180 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. With strange good nature give his worthless son The very laurels that his virtue won ; And. with the same appellatives adorn A living hero, and a sot unborn. Hence, without blushing, (say whate'er we can) We more regard th' escutcheon than the man ; Yet, true to nature and her instincts, prize The hound or spaniel as his talent lies : Careless from what paternal blood he rose, We value Bowman only for his nose. Say, should you see a generous steed outflv The swiftest zephyr of th' autumnal sky, Would you at once his ardent wishes kill, Give him the dogs, or chain him to a mill, Because his humbler fathers, grave and slow, Clean'd half the Jakes of Houndsditch or Soho ? In spite of all that in his grandsire shone, An horse's worth is, like a king's, his own. If m the race, when lengthening shouts inspire His bold compeers, and set their hearts on fire, He seems regardless of th' exulting sound, And scarcely drags his legs along the ground ; What will t avail that, sprung from heavenly seed, His great forefathers swept th' Arabian mead ; Or, dress'd in half an empire's purple, bore xhe weight of Xerxes on the Caspian shore ? I grant, my lord ! your ancestors outshine All that e'er graced the Ganges, or the Rhine : -orn to protect, to rouse those godlike fires I .iat genius kindles, or fair fame inspires ; O er humble life to spread indulgent ease Jo give the veins to flow without disease ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 181 From proud oppression injured worth to screen, And shake alike the senate and the scene. And see, to save them from the wrecks of age, Exulting science fills her every page, Fame grasps her trump, the epic Muse attends, The lyre re-echoes and the song ascends, The sculptor's chissel with the pencil vies, Rocks leap, and animated marbles rise : All arts, all powers, the virtuous chiefs ador% And spread their pomps to ages yet unborn. All this we own— but if, amidst the shine, Th' enormous blaze that beams along the line, Some scoundrel peer, regardless of his sires. Pursues each folly, and each vice admires : Shall we enrol his prostituted name In honor's zenith, and the lists of fame ? Exalted titles, like a beacon, rise To tell the wretched where protection lies. He then who hears unmoved affliction's cry, His birth's a phantom, and his name's a lie. Th' Egyptians thus, on Cairo's sacred plain, Saw half their marbles move into a fane ; The glorious work unnumber'd artists ply, Now turn the dome, now lift it to the sky : But when they enter'd the sublime abode, They found a serpent where they hoped a god. Anstis observes, that when a thousand years Roll through a race of princes, or of peers, Obliging virtue sheds her every beam From son to son, and waits upon the stream. 182 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Yet say, ye great ! who boast another's scars, And think your lineage ends but in the stars, What is this boon of Heaven ? Dependent still On woman's weakness, and on woman's will 5 Dare ye affirm that no exotic blood Has stain'd your glories ever since the Flood ? Might not some brawny slave, from Afric fled, Stamp his base image in the nuptial bed ? Might not, in Pagan days, your mothers prove The fire of Phoebus, and the strength of Jove ? Or, more politely to their vows untrue, Love, and elope, as modern ladies do ? But, grant that all your gentle grandames shone Clear, and unsullied as the noon -day sun 5 Though Nature form'd them of her chastest mold, Say, was their birth illustrious as their gold ? Full many a lord, we know, has chose to range Among the wealthy beauties of the 'Change 3 Or sigh'd, still humbler, to the midnight gale For some fair peasant of th' Arcadian vale. Then blame us not, if backward to adore A name polluted by a slave or whore ; Since, spite of patents, and of kings' decrees, And blooming coronets on parchment trees, Some alien stain may darken all the line, .And Norfolk's blood descend as mean as mine. You boast, my lord ! a race with laurels crown'd, Oy senates honor'd, and in wars renown'd 5 Show then the martial sound to danger bred, When Poictiers thunder'd, and when Cressy bled ; Show us those deeds, those heaven-directed fires, That ages past saw beaming on your sires, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 183 That freeborn pride no tyrant durst enslave? That godlike zeal that only lived to save. Dare you, though faction bawl through all her tribe. Though monarchs threaten, and though statesmen bribe. Feel for mankind, and gallantly approve All virtue teaches, and all angels love ? Know you the tear that flows o'er worth distressed, The joy that rises when a people's blest ? Then, if you please, immortalize your line, "With all that's great, heroic, and divine ; Explore with curious eye th' historic page, The rolls of fame, the monuments of age ; Adopt each chief immortal Homer sings, All Greece's heroes, and all Asia's kings : If earth's too scanty, search the blest abode, And make your first progenitor a god : We grant your claim, whate'er you wish to prove. The son of Priam, or the son of Jove. Statesmen and patriots thus to glory rise, The self-born sun that gilds them never dies : "While he ennobled by those gewgaw things, The pride of patents, and the breath of kings, Glares the pale meteor of a little hour, Fed by court sunshine, and poetic shower ; Then sinks at once, unpitied and unbless'd, A nation's scandal, and a nation's jest. Nobility had something in her blood, When to be great was only to be good : Sublime she sat in virtue's sacred fane, With all the sister graces in her train. She still exists, 'tis true, in Grosvenor-Squaro. And leads a life, a kind of— as it were — 184 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And see ! self-shelter'd from the world's alarm*, The dying goddess sleeps in Fortune's arms ; From luxury attends her soft retreats, The modest Frazi warbles while she eats ; Arabia's sweets distil at every pore, Her flatterers soothe her, and her slaves adore 5 Indulged by all our senates to forget Those worst of plagues, a promise and a debt. Not but there are, amidst the titled crew, Unknown to all but Collins, and the stew, Men who improve their heaven-descended fires., Rise on their blood, and beam upon their sires ; Men who, like diamonds from Golconda's mine, Call from themselves the ray that makes them shine. Pleased let me view a Cecil's soul array'd With all that Plato gather'd in the shade ; Reflect how nobly Radnor can descend To lose his title in the name of friend ; At Dorset look, and bid Hibernia own Her viceroy form'd to sit upon a throne ; Admire how innocence can lend to truth Each grace of virtue, and each charm of youth, And then enraptured bend the suppliant knee To Heaven's high throne, O Rockingham ! for thee. Let then vain fools their proud escutcheons view, Allied to half the Incas of Peru ; With every vice those lineal glories stain That rose in Pharamond, or Charlemagne ; But ye, dear youths J whom chance of genius calls' To court pale wisdom in these hallow'd walls, Scorn ye to hang upon a blasted name, Another's virtue, and another's fame : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 185 In two short precepts all jour business lies — Would you be great ? — be virtuous, and be wise. ODE TO HEALTH. BY MR. DUNCOMBE. JVon est vivere, sed valere vita. HEALTH ! to thee thy votary owes All the blessings life bestows, All the sweets the summer yields, Melodious woods, and clover'd fields ; By thee he tastes the calm delights Of studious days and peaceful nights : By thee his eye each scene with rapture views ; The Muse shall sing thy gifts, for they inspire the Muse. Does increase of wealth impart Transports to a bounteous heart ? Does the sire with smiles survey His prattling children round him play ? Does love with mutual blushes streak The swain's and virgin's artless cheek ? i From Health these blushes, smiles and transports flow; wealth, children, love itself, to Health their relish owe, Nymph, with thee, at early morn, Let me brush the waving corn ; And, at noontide's sultry hour, bear me to the w r oodbine bower ! 186 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. When evening lights her glow-worm, lead To yonder dew-enamell'd mead ; And let me range at night those glimmering groves., Where stillness ever sleeps, and Contemplation roves. This my tributary lay Grateful at thy shrine I pay, Who, for seven whole years, hast shed Thy balmy blessings o'er my head ; O ! let me still enamor ' d view Those fragrant lips of rosy hue, Nor think there needs th' allay of sharp disease, To quicken thy repast, and give it power to please. Now, by swiftest zephyrs drawn, Urge thy chariot o'er the lawn ; In yon gloomy grotto laid, Palemon asks thy kindly aid ; If goodness can that aid engage, O hover round the virtuous sage : Nor let one sigh for his own suffering rise ; Each human suffering fills his sympathizing eyes. Venus from iEneas' side With successful efforts tried To extract th' envenom'd dart That baffled wise lapis' art, If thus, Hygeia, thou couldst prove Propitious to the queen of love, Now on thy favor'd Heeerden bestow Tny choicest healing powers, for Pallas asks them no^ What, though banish'd from the fight, To the hero's troubled sight Ranks on ranks tumultuous rose Of flying friends and conquering foes : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 167 He only panted to obtain A laurel wreath for thousands slain ; On nobler views intent, the sage's mind Pants to delight, instruct, and humanize mankind THE HAMLET. Written in JVIiichwood Forest. BY T. WARTON. * - THE hinds how blest, who ne'er beguiled To quit their hamlet's hawthorn wild ; Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, For splendid care, and guilty gain ! - When morning's twilight-tinctured beam strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam, - They rove abroad in ether blue, To dip the scythe in fragrant dew 5 The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, That nodding shades a craggy dell. 'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, .Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear: On green untrodden banks they view The hyacinth's neglected hue : In their lone haunts and woodland rounds They spy the squirrel's airy bounds; j And startle from her ashen spray, J Across the glen, the screaming jay. I Each native charm their steps explore I Of solitude's sequester'd store. 188 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. For them the moon, with cloudless ray. Mounts, to illume their homeward way : Their weary spirits to relieve, The meadows incense breathe at eve. No riot mars the simple fare That o'er a glimmering hearth they share : But when the curfew's measured roar Duly, the darkening valleys o'er, Has echoed from the distant town, They wish no beds of cygnet down, No trophied canopies, to close Their drooping eyes in quick repose. Their little sons, who spread the bloom Of health around the clay -built room, Or through the primrosed coppice stray, Or gambol in the new-mown hay 5 Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine, Or drive afield the tardy kine ; Or hasten from the sultry hill To loiter at the shady rill ; Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest To rob the raven's ancient nest. Their humble porch with honied flowers The curling woodbine's shade embowers : From the trim garden's thy my mound Their bees in busy swarms resound ; Nor fell Disease, before his time, Hastes to consume life's golden prime : But when their temples long have wore The silver crown of tresses hoar, As studious still calm peace to keep. Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. BEAUTIES OP POETRY. 189 ODE TO EVENING. BY DR. J. WARTON. HAIL, meek-eyed maiden, clad in sober gray, Whose soft approach the weary woodman loves 5 As homeward bent, to kiss his prattling babes, Jocund, he whistles through the twilight groves. When Phoebus sinks behind the gilded hills, You lightly o'er the misty meadows walk, The drooping daisies bathe in dulcet dews, And nurse the nodding violet's tender stalk. The panting Dryads, that, in day's fierce heat, To inmost bowers and cooling caverns ran, Return to trip in wanton evening dance ; Old Sylvan too returns, and laughing Pan. To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair, Light skims the swallow o'er the watery scene ; And from the sheepcote and fresh-furrow'd field, Stout plowmen meet to wrestle on the green. The swain that artless sings on yonder rock, His supping sheep and lengthening shadow spies. Pleased with the cool, the calm refreshing hour, And with hoarse humming of unnumber'd flies. Now every passion sleeps : desponding Love, And pining Envy, ever restless Pride ; And holy Calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul, Anger and mad Ambition's storms subside. R 190 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. O modest Evening ! oft let me appear A wandering votary in thy pensive train ; Listening to every wildly warbling note That fills with farewel sweet thy darkening plain. THE ENTHUSIAST. JIN ODE, BY MR. WHITEHEAD. ONCE, I remember well the day, -Twas ere the blooming sweets of May Had lost their freshest hues, When every flower, on every hill, In every vale, had drank its fill Of sunshine and of dews. In short, 'twas that sweet season's prime, When Spring gives up the reins of time To Summer's glowing hand, And doubting mortals hardly know J5y whose command the breezes blow Which fan the smiling land. 'Twas then, beside a green-wood shade, Which clothed a lawn's aspiring head, I urged my devious way, With loitering steps, regardless where. So soft, so genial was the air, So wondrous bright the day. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 191 And now my eyes with transport rove O'er all the blue expanse above, Unbroken b}^ a cloud ! And now beneath delighted pass Where, winding through the deep green grass, A full-brimm'd river flow'd. I stop, I gaze ; in accents rude, To thee, serenest Solitude, Burst forth th' unbidden lay ; " Begone, vile world, the learn'd, the wise, " The great, the busy, I despise, u And pity ev'n the gay. " These, these are joys alone, I cry ; " 'Tis here, divine Philosophy, « Thou deign'st to fix thy throne ! " Here Contemplation points the road " Through Nature's charms to Nature's God i " These, these are joys alone ! " Adieu, ye vain low-thoughted cares, " Ye human hopes, and human fears, " Ye pleasures, and ye pains !" While thus I spake, o'er all my soul A philosophic calmness stole, A stoic stillness reigns. The tyrant passions all subside ; Fear, anger, pity, shame, and pride, No more my bosom move ; Yet still I felt, or seem'd to feel. A kind of visionary zeal Of universal love. 188 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. When lo ! a voice, a voice I hear ! : Twas Reason whisper'd in my ear These monitory strains : " What mean'st thou, man ? wouldst tliou unbind " The ties which constitute thy kind, " The pleasures and the pains ? " The same Almighty Power unseen, " Who spreads the gay or solemn scene w To Contemplation's eye, " Fix'd every movement of the soul, " Taught every wish its destined goal,. w And quicken'd every joy. " He bids the tyrant passions rage, " He bids them war eternal wage, " And combat each his foe : « Till from dissensions concords rise. " And beauties from deformities, " And happiness from woe. " Art thou not man, and darest thou find " A bliss which leans not to mankind ? " Presumptuous thought and vain ! " Each bliss unshared is unenjoy'd, < ; Each power is weak, unless employed u Some social good to gain. 4; Shall light, and shade, and warmth, and air. *• With those exalted joys compare " Which active virtue feels ! " When on she drags, as lawful prize, *• Contempt, and Indolence, and Vice, •• At her triumphant wheels ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 193 " As rest to labor still succeeds " To man, whilst Virtue's glorious deeds « Employ his toilsome day ; c * This fair variety of things " Are merely life's refreshing springs, " To soothe him on his way. u Enthusiast go, unstring thy lyre, " In vain thou sing'st, if none admire, " How sweet soe'er the strain. " And is not thy o'erflowing mind, u Unless thou mixest with thy kind, " Benevolent in vain ? " Enthusiast go, try every sense, " If not thy bliss, thy excellence, " Thou yet hast learn'd to scan 5 « At least thy wants, thy weakness know, M And see them all uniting show 4i That man was made for man." THE HERMIT. A BALLAD. BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M. B. " TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, " And guide my lonely way, " To where yon taper cheers the vale, " With hospitable ray. R 2 194 BEAUTIES OP POETRY. " For here, forlorn and lost, I tread, » With fainting steps and slow ; " Where wilds, immeasurably spread. " Seem lengthening as I go." "' Forbear, my son," the hermit cries* u To tempt the dangerous gloom 5 • For yonder phantom only flies " To lure thee to thy doom. rt Here, to the houseless child of want, " My door is open still 5 <•' And though my portion is but scant, " I give it with good will. « Then turn to-night, and freely share " Whate'er my cell bestows ; << My rushy couch, and frugal fare 5 ** My blessing and repose. -" No flocks that range the valley free " To slaughter I condemn : i! Taught by that Power that pities tue, ^ I learn to pity them. i; But, from the mountain's grassy side, " A guiltless feast I bring; ■" A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, rt And water from the spring. " Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; " For earth-born cares are wrong; •> Man wants but little here below, " Nor wants that little long." Sbft as the dew from heaven descendsj Jfis gentle accents fell : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 19? The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wilderness obscure The lonely mansion lay : A refuge to the neighboring poor, And strangers led astray. No stores beneath his humble thatch Required a master's care ; The wicket, opening with a latch, Received the harmless pair. And now, when busy crowds retire To revels or to rest, The hermit trimm'd his little fire, And cheer'd his pensive guest : And spread his vegetable store , And gaily press'd, and smiled : And, skill'd in legendary lore, The lingering hours beguiled. Around, in sympathetic mirth, Its tricks the kitten tries ; The cricket chirrups on the hearth ; The crackling faggot flies. But nothing could a charm impart To soothe the stranger's woe ; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rising cares the hermit spied, With answering cares oppress'd : • And whence, unhappy youth !" he criejj. " The sorrows of thy breast ? 19& BEAUTIES OF POETRY. " From better habitations spurn'd, " Reluctant dost thou rove ? " Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, " Or unregarded love ? " Alas ! the joys that fortune brings, " Are trifling, and decay; " And those who prize the paltry things. " More trifling still than they. ■" And what is friendship but a name, w A charm that lulls to sleep : " A shade that follows wealth or fame* " But leaves the wretch to weep ? " And love is still an emptier sound, < ; The modern fair one's jest 5 " On earth unseen, or only found " To warm the turtle's nest. " For shame, fond youth ; thy sorrows hush, " And spurn the sex," he said ; But while he spoke, a rising blush His love-lorn guest betray'd. Surprized ! he sees new beauties rise, Swift mantling to the view ; Like colors o'er the morning skies, As bright, as transient too. The bashful look, the rising breast, Alternate spread alarms ; The lovely stranger stands confess'd A maid in all her charms. i; And, ah ! forgive a stranger rude, " A wretch forlorn," she cried : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 197 < Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude a Where heaven and you reside. [ But let a maid thy pity share, " Whom love has taught to stray ; ' Who seeks for rest, but finds despair " Companion of her way. ; My father lived beside the Tyne, " A wealthy lord was he 5 And all his wealth was mark'd as mine> " He had but only me. To win me from his tender arms, " Unnumber'd suitors came ; Who praised me for imputed charms, " And felt or feign'd a flame. Each hour the mercenary crowd, " W T ith richest presents strove $ Among the rest, young Edwin bow'd, " But never talkM of love. In humble, simplest habit clad, " No wealth nor power had he | Wisdom and worth were all he had, " But these were all to me. ' The blossom opening to the day, » The dews of heaven refined, Could nought of purity display, If To emulate his mind. The dew, the blossom on the tree, , 6 With charms inconstant shine ; Their charms were his, but, woe is inc. •' Their constancy was mine. J 98 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. " For still I tried each fickle art, " Importunate and vain : " And while his passion touch'd my heart. " I triumph'd in his pain. <••' Till quite dejected with my scorn, " He left me to my pride ; « And sought a solitude forlorn, " In secret where he died. k » But mine the sorrow, mine the fault.. " And well my life shall pay ; " I'll seek the solitude he sought, " And stretch me where he lay. " And there forlorn, despairing, hid, I'll lay me down and die ; ." 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, " And so for him will I." " Forbid it, Heaven !" the hermit cried, And clasp'd her to his breast : The wondering fair one turn'd to chide; 'Twas Edwin's self that press'd. " Turn, Angelina, ever dear, " My charmer, turn to see " Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, " Restored to love and thee. $ Thus let me hold thee to my heart, " And every care resign : " And shall we never, never part, " My life — my all that's mine ? " No, never from this hour to part, " We'll live and love so true, i; The sigh that rends thy constant heart. « Shall break thy Edwin's too." BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 199 HYMN" OK SOLITUDE. BY JAMES THOMSON. HAIL, mildly pleasing Solitude, Companion of the wise and good: But from whose holy piercing eye The herd of fools and villains fly. Oh ! how I love with thee to walk, And listen to thy whisper 'd talk, Which innocence and truth imparts, And melts the most obdurate hearts. A thousand shapes you wear with ease. And still in every shape you please. Now, wrapp'd in some mysterious dream, A lone philosopher you seem ; Now quick from hill to vale you fly, And now you sweep the vaulted sky. A shepherd next you haunt the plain, And warble forth your oaten strain, A lover now, with all the grace Of that sweet passion in your face : Then, calm'd to friendship, you assume The geucle-looking Hartford's bloom, As, with her Musidora, she (Her Musidora r ond of thee) Amid the long withdrawing vale, Awakes the rivall'd nightingale. Thine is the balmy breath of morn, Just as the dew-bent rose is born ; £90 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And while meridian fervors beat, Thine is the woodland dumb retreat ; But chief, when evening scenes decay, And the faint landscape swims away, Thine is the doubtful soft decline, And that best hour of musing thine. Descending angels bless thy train, The virtues of the sage and swain ; Plain innocence, in white array'd, Before thee lifts her fearless head : Religion's beams around thee shine, And cheer thy glooms with light divine : About thee sports sweet Liberty ; And rapt Urania sings to thee. Oh, let me pierce thy secret cell ! And in thy deep recesses dwell. Perhaps from Norwood's oak-clad hill, When meditation has her fill, I just may cast my careless eyes Where London's spiry turrets rise ; Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain. Then shield me in the woods again. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 201 THE COTTEJVS(X) SATUEDAF NIGHT. INSCRIBED TO R. A****, ESQ. BY ROBERT BURNS. - Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, " Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; » " r Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, " The short and simple annals of the pooi. Gkai I, MY loved, my honor'd, much respected friend ! No mercenary bard his homage pays 5 With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : *Fo you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene 5 The native feelings strong, the guileless ways-; - What A**** in a cottage would have been ; Ah ! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween I II. November chill blaws(2) loud wi'(3) angry sugh:(4) The shortening winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae(5) the plew :(6) The blackening trains o'(7) cra\vs(8) to their repose ; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes. This night his weekly moil (9) is at an end, (1) The inhabitant of a cot-house or cottage. (2) Blows. (3) With. (4) The continued rushing noise of wind or wufcV (5) From. (6) Plow. (7) Of. (8) Crows. (9) Labor. S >02 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And wear j, o'er the moor, his course does hameward (1) bend. III. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree : Th' expectant wee-things 9 (2J todlin,(3) stacher(4) through To meet their dad, wi' flichterin(o) noise an'(6) glee. His wee bit(7) ingle(8) blinkin(9) bonnily,(10) His clean hearth-stane,( 11) his thriftie wijie > s(\9.) smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a'(13) his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. IV. Belyve(l4) the elder bairns(15) come drapping(16) in. At service out amang(17) the farmers roun' ;(18) Some ca'(19) the plew, some herd, (20) some tentie(21) ' rin(22) A cannie(23) errand to a neebor(24) town : Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu'(25) bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,(26) Comes hame,(27) perhaps to show a braw(28) new gown ? (I) Homeward. (2) Little ones. (3) Tottering. (4) Stagger. (5) Fluttering. (6) And. (7) A small matter* (8) A fire, or fire-place. (9) Smirking. (10) Beautifully. (II) Hearth-stone. (12) An endearing term for -wife. (13) All. (14) By und by. (15) Children. (16) Dropping. (17) Among. (18) Around, in the circle of the neighborhood. 4 * (19) Drive. (20) To tend flocks. (21) Heedful, cautious. (22) Run. (23) Gentle, mild, dexterous. (24) Neighbor. .25) Youthful. (26) Eye. (27) Home. (28) Fine, handromr BEAUTIES OF POETRY. m Or deposite her sair-won(l) penny fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. V. Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, Air each for other's weelfare(2) kindly speirs:(3; The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet ; Each tells the uncos (4) that he sees or hears ; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years j Anticipation forward points the view. The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, Gars (5) auld(6) claes(7) look amaist(8) as weel's(9) the new ; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. VI. Their masters' an' their mistresses' command, The younkers a' are warned to obey ; An' mind their labors wi' an eydent(lO) hand, An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk(ll) or play: iJ An' ! be sure to fear the Lord alway ! " An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night ! '• Lest in temptation's paths ye gang(12) astray, " Implore his counsel and assisting might; « They never sought in vain, that sought the Lorn: aright." VIL But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha(13) kens(14) the meaning o' the same. Tells how a neebor lad cam (15) o'er the moor. To do some errands, and convoy her hame. (1) Service-won. (2) Welfare. (3) Inquires. (4) KeTTs. (5) Makes. (6) Old. (7) Clothes. (8) Almost. (9) Wetf. (101 Diligent. (11) To daily, to trifle. (12) To go, to wulSr. (13) Who. (14) Knows. (15) Cawe. £04 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins(t) is afraid to speak ; Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae(2) wild, worth- less rake. VIII. Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ;(3) A strappan(4) youth : he takes the mother's eye; Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; The father cracks(o) of horses, plews, and kye.(6) The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But, blate and laithfu',(7) scarce can weel behave j The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae(8) bashfu'(9) and sae grave ; Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like ilte lave. (10) IX. O happy love ! where love like this is found ! heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare I I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage Experience bids me this declare — •• If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare > " One cordial in this melancholy vale, •'. 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, <; In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, • ; Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening sale." (1) Nearly half, partly. (2) No. (3) Into the spcnce or parlor. f4") Tall and handsome. ( 5*\ Converses. (6>\ Cows. 4) Tall and handsome. (5) Converses. (6) Cows. Bashful, sheepish. (8) So. (9) Basl ) The rest, the remainder, the others. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. £05 X. Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, Betray sweet Jenny^s unsuspecting youth ? Curse on his perjured arts ! dissembling smooth : Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled ? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild ! XI. But now the supper crowns their simple board, The healsome(l) parritch(2J chief o' Scotia's food ; The soupe(3) their only Haivkief4J does afford, That 'yont(5) the hallan(6) snugly chows(7) hev cood :(8) The dame brings forth, in complimentai mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd(9) kebbuck,(10) fell.(ll) Air aft (12) he's press'd, an' aft he ca's(13) it guid ;(14) The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond(la) auld, sin'(l6) lint(17) was i'(18) the bell.(19) XII. The cheerfu ? (20) supper done, wr serious face, They round the ingle form a circle wide \ (1) Healthful, wholesome. (2) Oatmeal pudding, a well-known Scotch dish. (3) A spoonful, a small quantity of any thing liquid. (4) A cow — property, one -with a -white face. (5) Beyond. (6) A particular partition wall in a cottage. (7) Chews. (8) Cud. (9) Well-spared. (10) A cheese. (11) Keen, biting. (12) Oft. (13) Calls. «'14) Good. (15) Twelvemonth. (16) Since. (17) Fla*. (18) In. (19J Flower. (20) Cheerful. 3 % 206 J3EAUTIES OF POETRY. The sire turns ever, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha } -Bible 9 ( 1 ) ance(2) his father's pride: His bonnet reverently is laid aside, His lyart(S) haffets(4) wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales (5) a portion with judicious care ; And " Let us worship God .'" he says, with solemi? air. XIII. They chant their artless notes in simple guise : They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyr's, worthy" of the name 5 Or noble Elgin beets(6) the heaven-ward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ; The tickled ears no heart -felt raptures raise ; Xae unison hae(7) they with our Creator's praise XIV. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the Friend of God on high 5 Or, Moses bad (8) eternal warfare wage "With Jlmalek's ungracious progeny 5 Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire j Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry 5 Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire 5 Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. (1) Hall-Bible. (2) Once. (3) Of a mixed color, gray. (4) The temples, the sides of the head. (5) Chooses. (6) Add^s fuel to the fir* (7) Have. (8) Did bid. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 207 XV. Perhaps the Christian Volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay his head : How his first followers and servants sped ; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; And heard great Babylon- s doom pronounced by Heav- en's command. XVI. Then, kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband, prays : Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing,"* That thus they all shall meet in future days : There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator' 's praise; In such society, yet still more dear 5 While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere, XVII. Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, "When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's every grace, except the heart ! The Tower, incensed, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But haply in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul ; • And in l>is Book of Life the inmates poor enrol. * Pope's Windsor Fores*- 208 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. XVIII. Then homeward all take off their several way 5 The youngling cottagers retire to rest : The parent -pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heaven the Avarm request, That He who stills the raven's clamorous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide ; But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. XIX. From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her loved at home, revered abroad : Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, " An honest man's the noblest work of God :" And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; "What is a lordling's pomp ? A cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! XX. Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil, Be bless'd with health, and peace, and sweet content ! And, O ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their ranch loved isle. XXI. O Thou J who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 209 Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, (The patriot's God peculiarly thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) O never, never Scotia's realm desert : But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard \ .YA7V WJiS MADE TO MOUMJS\ A DIRGE. BY ROBERT BURNS, I. WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One evening, as I wander'd forth Along the banks of Jiyr> I spied a man, whose aged step Seem'd weary, worn with care ; His face was furrow'd o'er with yearSj And hoary was his hair. II. Young stranger, whither wanderest thou i (Began the reverend sage ;) 33oes thirst of wealth thy step constrain. Or youthful pleasure's rage ? Or haply, press'd with cares and woe-. Too soon thou hast began 210 BEAUTIES OF POETRY To wander forth, with me, to mourn The miseries of man. III. The sun that overhangs yon moor, Out-spreading far and wide, Where hundreds labor to support A haughty lordling's pride ; I've seen yon weary winter-sun Twice forty times return ; And every time has added proofs, That man was made to mourn. IV. man ! while in thy early years, How prodigal of time ! Mispending all thy precious hours, Thy glorious youthful prime ! Alternate follies take the sway : Licentious passions burn ; Which tenfold force gives nature's lav/. That man was made to mourn. V. Look not alone on youthful prime* Or manhood's active might : Man then is useful to his kind, Supported is his right, But see him on the edge of life, With cares and so«rows worn, Then age and want, Oh! ill-match'dpair I Show man was made to mourn, VI. A few seem favorite? of fate, In pleasure's lap caress'd; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 211 Yet, think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest. But, Oh ! what crowds in every land. Are wretched and forlorn, Through weary life this lesson learn. That man was made to mourn. VII. Many and sharp the numerous ills Inwoven with our frame ! More pointed still we make ourselves. Regret, remorse and shame ! And man, whose heaven-erected face The smiles of love adorn, Man's inhumanity to man, Makes countless thousands mourn ! VIII. See yonder poor, o'erlabor'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow ivorm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, though a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn. IX. If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, By Nature's law designed, Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind? If not, why am I subject to His cruelty, or scorH ? 213 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, Or why has man the will and power To make his fellow mourn ? X. Yet, let not this too much, my son, Disturb thy youthful breast; This partial view of human -kind Is surely not the last ! The poor, oppressed, honest man, Had never, sure, been born, Had there not been some recompense To comfort those that mourn ! XI. O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend* The kindest and the best ! "Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest ! The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, From pomp and pleasure torn^ But, Oh ! a blest relief to those * Thai weary -laden mourn! WINTER. A DIRGE. J5Y ROBERT BURNS. F HE wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blawj(l) (1) Blow. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 21 3 Or, the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw;(l) WMIe tumbling brown, the burn(2) come? down, And roars frae bank to brae, -(3) \nd bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. II. « The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast*," The joyless winter-day, Let others fear— to me more dear Than all the pride of May : The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join ; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine ! III. Thou Power supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes* of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are thy will ! Then all I want— (0, do thou grant This one request of mine !) Since to enjoy thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. (1) Snow. (2) Water, a rivulet (o) A declivity, a precipice, the slope of a hill, "Dr. Younsr. 214 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. TO RUIN. BY ROBERT BURNS. I. ALL hail, inexorable lord ! At whose destruction-breathing word. The mightiest empires fall ! Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, The ministers of grief and pain, A sullen welcome, all ! With stern-resolved, despairing eye, I see each aimed dart ; For one has cut my dearest tie, And quivers in my heart. Then lowering, and pouring, The storm no more I dread 5 Though thickening and blackening. Round my devoted head. II. And thou, grim power, by life abhorr'd. While life a pleasure can afford, Oh ! hear a wretch's prayer ! No more I shrink, appall'd, afraid ; I court, I beg thy friendly aid, To close this scene of care ! When shall my soul, in silent peace. Resign life's joyless day ; My weary heart its throbbings cease, Cold mouldering in the clay ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. £15 No fear more, no tear more, To stain my lifeless face, Enclasped, and grasped Within thy cold embrace ! ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH. BY ROBERT BURNS. I. EDINA ! Scotia's darling seat ! Ail hail thy palaces and towers, Where once, beneath a monarch's feet* Sat legislation's sovereign powers ! From marking wildly -scatter'd flowers, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the lingering hours, I shelter in thy honor 'd shade. II. Here wealth still swells the golden tide 9 As busy trade his labor plies ; There architecture's noble pride Bids elegance and splendor rise ; Here justice, from her native skies, High wields her balance and her rod 5 There learning, with his eagle eyes, Seeks science in her coy abode. III. Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, With open arms the stranger hail ; $16 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Their views enlarged, their liberal mind, Above the narrow, rural vale : Attentive still to sorrow's wail, Or modest merit's silent claim : And never may their sources fail ! And never envy blot their name ! IV. Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn. Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptured thrill of joy ! Fair B strikes th' adoring eye, Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine : I see the Sire of Love on high, And own his work indeed divine ! V. There, watching high the least alarms, Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar ; X.ike some bold veteran, gray in arms, And mark'd with many a seamy scar : The ponderous wall and massy bar, Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock ; Have oft withstood assailing war, And oft repell'd th' invader's shock. VI. With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears I view that noble, stately dome, Where Scotia's kings of other years, Famed heroes, had their royal home : Alas, how changed the times to come ! Their royal name low in the dust ! Their hapless race wild-wandering roam ! Though rigid law cries out, 'twas just ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 2tf VII. Wild beats my heart, to trace your steps* Whose ancestors, in days of yore, Through hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps Old Scotia's bloody lion bore ; Ev'n J, who sing in rustic lore, Haply, my sires have left their shed. And faced grim danger's loudest roar, Bold following where your fathers led! VIII. Edina I Scotia's darling seat ! All hail thy palaces and towers, Where once, beneath a monarch's feet, Sat legislation's sovereign powers ! From marking wiidly-scatter'd flowers, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the lingering hours, I shelter in thy honor'd shade. SONG. BY ROBERT BURNS. Tune — Roslin Castle. I. THE gloomy night is gathering fast, Loud roars the wild inconstant blast, Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, I see it driving o'er the plain ; T 2 218 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. The hunter now has left the moor, The scatter'd coveys meet secure, While here I wander, press'd with can-. Along the lonely banks of Ayr. II. The Autumn mourns her ripening corn By early Winter's ravage torn: Across her placid, azure sky, She sees the scowling tempest fly : Chill runs my blood to hear it rave. I think upon the stormy wave, Where many a danger I must dare. Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr* III. *Tis not the surging billows' roar, ? Tis not that fatal deadly shore ; Though death in every shape appear. The wTetched have no more to fear : But round my heart the ties are bound, That heart transpierced with many a wound \ These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr. IV. Farewel, old Collars hills and dales, Her heathy moors and winding vales 5 The scenes where wretched Fancy roves, Pursuing past, unhappy loves ! Farewel, my friends ! farewel, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those- — The bursting tears my heart declare, Farewel, the bonnie banks of Ayr ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 219 THE FAREWEL, TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTOX. BY ROBERT BURNS. Tune — Good night, and joy be uri? you a\ I. ADIEU ! a heart-warm, fond adieu ! Dear brothers of the mystic tie i Ye favor 'd, ye enlightened few, Companions of my social joy ! Though I to foreign lauds must Me, Pursuing fortune's sliddery(l) ba',(2) With melting heart, and brimful eye, I'll mind you still, though far awa'.(S) II. Oft have I met your social band, And spent the cheerful, festive night j Oft, honor'd with supreme command, Presided o'er the sons of light ; And by that hieroglyphic bright, Which none but craftsmen ever saw ! Strong memory on my heart shall write Thosehappy scenes when far awa\ III. May freedom, harmony, and love, Unite you in the grand design. (1) Slippery. (2) Ball. (3) Away. 2£0 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Beneath th' omniscient eye above, The glorious Architect divine ! That you may keep th' unerring line, Still rising by the plummet's law, Till order bright completely shine, Shall be my prayer when far awa\ IV. And you farewel ! whose merits claim. Justly, that highest badge to wear ! Heaven bless your honor'd, noble name. To masonry and Scotia dear ! A last request permit me here, When yearly ye assemble a'. One round, I ask it with a tear, To him, the bard that's far awa\ WRITTEN IN FRMRS-CARSE HERMITAGE. ON NITH-SIDE. BY ROBERT BURNS. THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deck'd in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, in darkness lost 5 Hope not sunshine every hour, Fear not clouds will always lower. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, As youth and love, with sprightly dance, Beneath thy morning star advance, Pleasure with her siren air May delude the thoughtless pair ; Let prudence Mess enjoyment's cup r Then raptured sip, and sip it up. As thy day grows warm and high, Life's meridian flaming nigh, Dost thou spurn the humble vale ? Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale ? Check thy climbing step, elate, Evils lurk in felon wait : Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold, Soar around each cliffy hold, While cheerful peace, with linnet song, Chants the lowly dells among. As the shades of evening close, Beckoning thee to long repose ; As life itself becomes disease, Seek the chimney -nook of ease. There ruminate with sober thought, On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought ; And teach the sportive younkers round, Laws of experience, sage and sound. Say, man's true, genuine estimate, The grand criterion of his fate, Is not, art thou high or low ? Did thy fortune ebb or flow ? Did many talents gild thy span ? Or frugal nature grudge thee one ? Tell them, and press it on their mind, As thou thyself must shortly find, 222 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. The smile or frown of awful Heaven, To virtue or to vice is given. Say, to be just, and kind, and wise, There solid self-enjoyment lies ; That foolish, selfish, faithless ways, Lead to be wretched, vile, and base. Thus resign'd and quiet, creep To the bed of lasting sleep ; Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake, Night, where dawn shall never break, Till future life, future no more, To light and joy the good restore, To light and joy unknown before. Stranger, go ! Heaven be thy guide ! Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side. } On scaring some Water -Fowl in Loch-Turit, a wild Scene among the Hills of Oaghtertyre, BY ROBERT BURNS. WHY, ye tenants of the lake, For me your watery haunt forsake ? Tell me, fellow creatures, why At my presence thus you fly ? Why disturb your social joys, Parent, filial, kindred ties ? — Common friend to you and me> Nature's gifts to all are free : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 223 Peaceful keep jour dimpling wave, Busy feed, or wanton lave 5 Or, beneath the sheltering rock, Bide the surging billows' shock. Conscious, blushing for our races, Soon, too soon, your fears I trace, Man, your proud usurping foe, Would be lord of all below : Plumes himself in freedom's pride, Tyrant stern to all beside. The eagle, from the cliffy brow, Marking you his prey below, In his breast no pity dwells, Strong necessity compels. But man, to w T hom alone is given A ray direct from pitying Heaven, Glories in his heart humane— And creatures for his pleasures slain. In these savage, liquid plains, Only known to wandering swains, "Where the mossy rivulet strays. Far from human haunts and ways 5 All on nature you depend, And life's poor season peaceful spend. Or, if man's superior might Dare invade your native right, On the lofty ether borne, Man with all his powers you scorn 5 Swiftly seek, on clanging wings, Other lakes and other springs ; And the foe you cannot brave, Scorn at least to be his slave. 124 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. DESPONDENCY. AN ODE. BY ROBERT BURNS. I. OPPRESSED with grief, oppressed with care, A burden more than I can bear, I sit me down and sigh ; O life ! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I ! Dim -backward as I cast my view, What sickening scenes appear ! What sorrows yet may pierce me through, Too justly I may fear J Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom ; My woes here shall close ne'er. But with the closing tomb 1 II. Happy, ye sons of busy life, Who, equal to the bustling strife, No other view regard ! Ev'n when the wished end's denied, Yet while the busy means are plied, They bring their own reward : Whilst I, a hope-abandon'd wight, Unfitted with an aim, Meet every sad returning night, And joyless mourn the same. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 225 You bustling, and justling, Forget each grief and pain 5 I listless, yet restless, Find every prospect vain. III. How blest the solitary's lot, Who, all -forgetting, all-fergot, "Within his humble cell, The cavern wild with tangling roots. Sits o'er his newly gather d fruits, Beside his crystal well ! Or haply, to his evening thought, By unfrequented stream, The ways of men are distant brought. A faint-collected dream : While praising, and raising His thoughts to Heaven on high. As wandering, meandering, He views the solemn sky. IV. Than I, no lonely hermit placed Where never human footstep traced, Less fit to play the part 5 The lucky moment to improve, And just to stop, a.nd just to move, With self-respecting art : But ah ! those pleasures, loves, and joys. Which I too keenly taste, The solitary can despise, Can want, and yet be blest ! He needs not, he heeds not, Or human love or hate, Whilst I here must cry here. At perfidy ingrate ! U 226 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, ADDRESS TO THE SHADE OF THOMSON, On crowning his Bust, at Ednam, Roxburghshire, with Bays. BY ROBERT BURNS. WHILE virgin Spring, by Eden's flood, Unfolds her tender mantle green, Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, Or tunes iEolian strains between : While Summer, with a matron grace, Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade, Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace The progress of the spiky blade : "While Autumn, benefactor kind, By Tweed erects his aged head, And sees, with self-approving mind. Each creature on his bounty fed : Wliile maniac Winter rages o'er The hills whence classic Yarrow flows, Housing the turbid torrent's roar, Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows : So long, sweet poet of the year, Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won : While Scotia, with exulting tear, Proclaims that Thomson was her son- BEAUTIES OF POETRY. &17 Qn seeing a wounded Rare limp by me, which a Fellow had just shot at. BY ROBERT BURNS. INHUMAN man ! curse on thy barbarous art. And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye ; May never pity soothe thee with a sigh. Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart ! Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field. The bitter little that of life remains : No more the thickening brakes and verdant plain'- To thee shall home, or food, or pastime, yield. Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest, No more of rest, but now thy dying bed ! The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head. The cold earth with thy bloody bosom press'd. Oft as by winding Nith, I, musing, wait The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn, And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR. BY ROBERT BURNS. OH ! had each Scot of ancient times, Been Jeany Scott, as thou art, The bravest heart on English ground. Had vielded like a coward. 228 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. THE FAKENHAM GHOST. BY ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. i HE lawns were dry in Euston Park i (Here truth inspires my tale) The lonely foot-path, still and dark, Led over hill and dale. Benighted was an ancient damg, And fearful haste she made To gain the vale of Fakenham> And hail its willow shade. Her footsteps knew no idle stops, But follow'd faster still ; And echo'd to the darksome copse, That whisper'd on the hill. Where clamorous rooks, yet scarcely huslrd. Bespoke a peopled shade ; And many a wing tlie foliage bruslrd, And hovering circuits made. The dappled herd of grazing deer, That sought the shades by day, Now started from her path with fear ? And gave the stranger way. Barker it grew ; and darker fears Came o'er her troubled mind ; "When now a short quick step she hear* Come patting close behind. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 229 She iurn'd ; it stopp'd — nought could she see Upon the gloomy plain ; But, as she strove the sprite to flee, She heard the same again. Now terror seized her quaking frame : For, where the path was bare, The trotting ghost kept on the same I She mutter'd many a prayer. Yet once again, amidst her fright, She tried what sight could do 5 When, through the cheating glooms of night.? A monster stood in view. Regardless of whate'er she felt, It followed down the plain ! She own'd her sins, and down she knelt. And said her prayers again. Then on she sped ; and hope grew strong. The white park gate in view ; Which pushing hard, so long it swung ^hat ghost and all pass'd through. Loud fell the gate against the post ! Her heart-strings like to crack : For much she fear'd the grisly ghost Would leap upon her back. Still on, pat, pat, the goblin went, As it had done before ; Her strength and resolution spent, She fainted at the door. Out came her husband, much surprised : Out came her daughter dear ; U 2 230 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Good-natured souls ! all unadvised Of what they had to fear. The candle's gleam pierced through the night, Some short space o'er the green ; And there the little trotting sprite Distinctly might be seen. An ass's foal had lost its dam "Within the spacious park ; And, simple as the playful lamb, Had follow'd in the dark. No goblin he ; no imp of sin : No crimes had ever known. They took the shaggy stranger in, And rear'd him as their own. His little hoofs would rattle round. Upon the cottage floor : The matron learn'd to love the sound That frighten'd her before. A favorite the ghost became ; And 'twas his fate to thrive : And long he lived, and spread his fame, And kept the joke alive. For many a laugh went through the vafe, And some conviction too : — Bach thought some other goblin taFe*. Perhaps, was just as true, 9 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 251 ORIENTAL ECLOGUES. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. ECLOGUE I. SELIM 5 OR, THE SHEPHERD'S MORAL. .Scene, a Valley near Bagdat. — Time, the Morning, * IE Persian maids, attend your Poet's lays, i; And hear how shepherds pass their golden days. " Not all are blest whom Fortune's hand sustains " With wealth in courts ; nor all that haunt the plains : " Well may your hearts believe the truth I tell ; u 'Tis virtue makes the bliss where'er we dwell." Thus Selim sung, by sacred truth inspired ; Nor praise, but such as truth bestow'd, desired : Wise in himself, his meaning songs convey'd Informing morals to the shepherd maid ; Or taught the swains that surest bliss to find, What groves nor streams bestow — a virtuous mind. When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride, The radiant morn resumed her orient pride ; When wanton gales along the valleys play, Breathe on each flower, and bear their sweets away ; By Tigris' wandering waves he sat, and sung This useful lesson for the fair and young. " Ye Persian dames," he said " to you belong— " Well may they please — the morals of my song : •* No fairer maids, I trust, than you are found, M Graced with 90ft arts, the peopled world around ! 232 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. " The morn that lights you, to your loves supplies " Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes : " For you those flowers her fragrant hands bestow 5 " And yours the love that kings delight to know* " Yet think not these, all beauteous as they are, " The best kind blessings Heaven can grant the fair ! " Who trust alone in beauty's feeble ray, " Boast but the worth Balsora's pearls display : " Drawn from the deep, we own the surface bright 5 " But, dark within, they drink no lustrous light : " Such are the maids, and such the charms they boast, " By sense unaided, or to virtue lost. " Self-flattering sex ! your hearts believe in vain " That love shall blind, when once he fires the swain ; '* Or hope a lover by your faults to win, " As spots on ermine beautify the skin : " Who seeks secure to rule, be first her care " Each softer virtue that adorns the fair ; " Each tender passion man delights to find, " The loved perfection of a female mind 1 " Blest were the days when Wisdom held her reigtu w And shepherds sought her on the silent plain ! " With Truth she wedded in the secret grove ; " Immortal Truth ! and daughters bless'd their love. a — o haste, fair maids ! ye Virtues, come away ! fci Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way ! " The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore, " By Ind excelPd^ or Araby, no more. " Lost to our fields, for so the fates ordain, Ci The dear deserters shall return again. 6i Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear, ^ To lead the train, sweet Modesty, appear : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 233 fe Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, u And shepherd girls shall own thee for their queen : ¥ With thee be Chastity, of all afraid, 54 Distrusting all ; — a wise, suspicious maid ; — J* But man the most : — not more the mountain doe W Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe. u Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew ; ¥ A silken veil conceals her from the view. ." No wild desires amidst thy train be known ; ;i But Faith, whose heart is iix'd on one alone 5 Ci Desponding Meekness, with her downcast eyes, W And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs ; i< And Love, the last : by these your hearts approve; ;i These are the virtues that must lead to love." Thus sung the swain 5 and ancient legends say The maids of Bagdat verified the lay : Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along 5 The shepherds loved 5 and Selim bless'd his song. ECLOGUE IL HASSAN ; OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER, Scene, the Desert, — Time, Mid -Day. IN silent horror, o'er the boundless waste, The driver Hassan with his camels pass'd : One cruse of water on his back he bore, And his light scrip contain'd a scanty store ; A fan of painted feathers in his hand, To guard his shaded face from scorching sand'. The sultry sun had gaiivd the middle sky, And not a tree, and not an herb was nigh ; 234 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. The beasts with pain their dusty way pursue ; Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view - ? With desperate sorrow wild, th' affrighted man Thrice sigh'd ; thrice struck his breast ; and thus began " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, " When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way ! Ah ! little thought I of the blasting wind, The thirst, or pinching hunger, that I find ! Bethink Vnee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage? When fails this cruse, his unrelenting rage ? Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign , Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine ? j Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear In all my griefs a more than equal share ! nere, where no springs in murmurs break away* Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow : Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands, are found, And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around. " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, " When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !" , Cursed be the gold and silver, which persuade Weak men to follow far-fatiguing trade ! The lily Peace outshines the silver store, And life is dearer than the golden ore : Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown. To every distant mart and wealthy town. Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea ; And are we only yet repaid by thee ? Ah ! why was ruin so attractive made, Or why fond man so easily betray'd ? BEAUTIES OF POETRY, *3o ' .V*hy heed we not, while mad we haste along, The gentle voice of peace or pleasure's song ? lOr wherefore think the flowery mountain's side, The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride j "Why think we these less pleasing to behold Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold ? - " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, " When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !'' O cease my fears !— All frantic as I go, Vhen thought creates unnumber'd scenes of woe j "What if the lion, in his rage, I meet ! Oft, in the dust, I view his printed feet : A'nd, fearful! oft, when day's declining light, -Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger roused he scours the groaning plain, 1 Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers in his train ; J Before them Death, with shrieks, directs their way, ,l?ills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, " When first from Schiraz' wails I bent my way !" At that dead hour the silent asp shall creep, I ffi ought of rest I find, upon my sleep 5 Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, And wake to anguish with a burning wound. ^Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor, Krom lust of wealth, and dread of death secure ! They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find ; Peace rules the day where reason rules the mind. " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the clay, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !'" O hapless youth ! — for she thy love hath won— • The tender Zara will be most undone ! 236 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Big swell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid, J "When fast she dropp'd her tears, as thus she said : « Farewel the youth whom sighs could not detain ; « Whom Zara's breaking heart implored in vain ! <* Yet, as thou go'st, may every blast arise " Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs ! " Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'st thou see, " No griefs endure ; nor weep, false youth, like me.' — O let me safely to the fair return ; Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn 5 O ! let me teach my heart to lose its fears, Recall'd by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears. He said, and call'd on Heaven to bless the day When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way. ECLOGUE III. ABRA ; OR, THE GEORGIAN SULTANA. Scene, a Forest. — Time, the Evening. IN Georgia's land, where Tefflis' towers are seen. In distant view, along the level green ; While evening dews enrich the glittering glade, And the tall forests cast a longer shade : What time 'tis sweet o'er fields of rice to stray, Or scent the breathing maize at setting day 5 Amidst the maids of Zagen's peaceful grove, Emyra sung the pleasing cares of love. Of Abra first began the tender strain, Who led her youth with flocks upon the plain 5 At morn she came, those willing flocks to lead. Where lilies rear them in the watery mead : I BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 3 From early dawn, the live-long hours she told, Till late, at silent eve, she penn'd the fold. Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade, A various wreath of odorous flowers she made. Gay motley'd pinks, and sweet jonquils she chose, The violet blue, that on the moss-bank grows 5 All sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there : The finish 'd chaplet well adorn 'd her hair. Great Abbas chanced that fated morn to stray, By love conducted from the chase away : Among the vocal vales he heard her song, And sought the vales and echoing groves among. At length he found and woo'd the rural maid ; She knew the monarch, and with fear obey'd. " Be every youth like royal Abbas moved, " And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !*' The royal lover bore her from the plain ; Yet still her crook and bleating flock remain : Oft as she went, she backward turn'd her view. And bade that crook and bleating flock adieu. Fair happy maid ! to other scenes remove : To richer scenes of golden power and love ! Go, leave the simple pipe and shepherd's strain ; With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign ! 4i Be every youth like royal Abbas moved, < ; And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !'* Yet, midst the blaze of courts, she fixed her love On the cool fountain, or the shady grove : Still, with the shepherd's innocence, her mind To the sweet vale and flowery mead inclined : And. oft as spring renewM the plains Breathed his soft gales, and led the fragant hours* V 23S BEAUTIES OF POETRY. With sure return she sought the sylvan scene, The breezy mountains, and the forests green. Her maids around her moved, a duteous band I Each bore a crook, all rural, in her hand : Some simple lay of flocks and herds they sung; With joy the mountain and the forest rung. " Be every youth like royal x\bbas moved, " And every Georgian maid like Abra loved!" And oft the royal lover left the care And thorns of state, attendant on the fair ; Oft to the shades and low-roof 'd cot retired 5 Or sought the vale where first his heart was fired : A russet mantle, like a swain, he wore, And thought of crowns, and busy courts no more. " Be every youth like royal Abbas moved, " And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !" Blest was the life that royal Abbas led : Sweet was his love, and innocent his bed. What if in wealth the noble maid excel ; The simple shepherd girl can love as well. Let those who rule on Persia's jewell'd throne Be famed for love, and gentlest love alone ; Or wreathe, like Abbas, full of fair renown, The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown. Ci O happy days !" the maids around her say 5 ' A O haste, profuse of blessings, haste away! " Be every youth like royal Abbas moved, J* And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !" BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 239 ECLOGUE IV. AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES. Scene, a Mountain in Cir cassia. — Time^ Midnight. IN fair Circassia, where, to love inclined, Each swain was blest, for every maid was kindj At that still hour when awful midnight reigns, And none but wretches haunt the twilight plains: What time the moon had hung her lamp on high, And pass'd in radiance through the cloudless sky : Sad, o'er the dews, two brother shepherds fled, Where wildering fear and desperate sorrow led : Fast as they press'd their flight, behind them lay Wide ravaged plains, and valleys stole away : Along the mountain's bending side they ran. Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began. SECANDER. stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, turn thee and survey 1 Trace our sad flight through all its length of way ! And first review that long-extended plain, And yon wide groves already pass'd with pain ! Yon ragged cliff, whose dangerous path we tried'. And, last, this lofty mountain's weary side ! AGIB. Weak as thou art, yet, hapless, must thou know The toils of flight, or some severer woe ! Still, as I haste, the Tartar shouts behind; And shrieks and sorrows load the saddeuing wind : 240 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. In rage of heart, with ruin in his hand, He blasts our harvests, and deforms our land. Yon citron grove, whence first in fear we came. Drops its fair honors to the conquering flame : Far fly the swains, like us, in deep despair, And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care. SECANDER. Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword ; In vain, unheard, thou call'st thy Persian lord! In vain thou court'st him, helpless, to thine aid, To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid ! Far off, in thoughtless indolence resi&n'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure soothe his mind ; Midst fair sultanas lost in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. AGIB. Yet these green hills, in summer's sultry heat^ Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. Sweet to the sight is Zebra's flowery plain, And once by maids and shepherds loved in vain !' No more the virgins shall delight to rove JBy Sargis' banks, or Irwan's shady grove ; On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, Or breathe the sweets of Aly's flowery vale ; Fair scenes! but ah! no more with peace possess'd, With ease alluring, and with plenty bless'd. No more the shepherd's whitening tents appear, Nor the kind products of a bounteous year ; No more the date, with snowy blossoms crown'd ; But ruin spreads her baleful fires around. SECANDER. In vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves-, For ever famed for pure and happy loves : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 241 In vain she boasts her fairest of the fair, Their eyes' blue languish, and their golden hair ! Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send ; Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend. AGIB. Ye Georgian swains, thai piteous learn from far Circassia's ruin, and the waste of war ; Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare. To shield your harvest, and defend your fair : The Turk and Tartar like designs pursue, Fix'd to destroy, and stedfast to undo. Wild as his land, in native deserts bred, By lust incited, or by malice led, The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey, Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way ;. Yet none so cruel as the Tartar foe, To death inured, and nursed in scenes of woe. He said ; when loud along the vale was heard A shriller shriek, and nearer fires appear'd ; Th' affrighted shepherds, through the dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight. ODE OK THE PASSIONS. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell, V 2 £42 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Possess'd beyond the Muse's painting : By turns they felt the glowing mind Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined : Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired. FilPd with fury, rapt, inspired, From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound ; And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each (for Madness ruled the hour) Would prove his own expressive power. First Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amidst the chords bewilder'd laid,. And back recoil'd, he knew not why, Ev'n at the sound himself had made, Kext Anger rush'd : his eyes on fire, In lightnings, own'd his secret stings : fn one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woful measures wan Despair — Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled; A solemn, strange, and mingled air : *Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure £ Still it whisper'd promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still, through all the song : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 243 And, where her sweetest theme she chose ; A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her goldeff hair. And longer had she sung — but, with a frown. Revenge impatient rose : He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down ; And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe 1 And, ever and anon, he beat ^ The doubling drum with furious heat ; And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strained ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. % Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd ; Sad proof of thy distressful state ! Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd ; And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hatef With eyes up-raised, as one inspired, "> Pale Melancholy sat retired ; And, from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul : And, dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; Through glades and glooms the mingled measures stole, Or o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 244 BEAUTIES OF POETRY Round a holy calm diffusing, Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. But O ! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone, When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste -eyed queen ... Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green : Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; And Sport leap'd up, and seized his beechen speai . Last came Joy's extatic trial : He, with viny crowns advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand address'd £ But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best : They would have thought, who heard the strain, They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound, And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. O Music ! sphere-descended maid, Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 245 "♦Why, goddess ! why, to us denied, Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ? As, in that loved Athenian bower, You learn'd an all-commanding power, Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd, Can well recall what then it heard, -Where is thy native simple heart, Devote to virtue, fancy, art ? .■Arise, as in that elder time, Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime ! Thy wonders, in that godlike age, Fill thy recording sister's page— JdTis said, and I believe the tale, Thy humblest reed could more prevail, Had more of strength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age 5 Ev'n all at once together found, -Cecilia's mingled world of sound — O bid our vain endeavors cease ; Revive the just designs of Greece : -Return in all thy simple state ! Confirm the tales her sons relate ! ODE TO SIMPLICITY. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. .„ O THOU, by nature taught To breathe her genuine thought, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong : ZAG BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Who first on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song 1 Thou, who, with hermit heart, Disdain'st the wealth of art, And gauds, and pageant weeds, and training pall ; But comest, a decent maid, In Attic robe array 'd, chaste, unboastful nymph, to thcc I call ! By all the honey'd store On Hybla"s thy my shore ; By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear ; By her* whose love-lorn woe, In evening musings slow, Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear ; By old Cephisus deep, Who spread his wavy sweep, In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat * On whose enamell'd side, When holy Freedom died, No equal haunt allured thy future feet. O sister meek of Truth, To my admiring youth, Thy sober aid and native charms infuse I The flowers that sweetest breathe, Though Beauty cull'd the wreath, Still ask thy hand to range their order d hues. While Rome could none esteem But virtue's patriot theme, * The nightingale, for which Sophocles seems to have ejiteY tained a peculiar fondness. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 24: You loved her hills, and led her laureat band : ' But staid to sing alone To one distinguish M throne ; And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. No more, in hall or bower, The passions own thy power ; Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean: For thou hast left her shrine ; Nor olive more, nor vine, Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene, Though taste, though genius bless To some divine excess, •Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole : What each, what all supply, May court, may charm our eye ; Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul ! Of these let others ask, To aid some mighty task ; I only seek to find thy temperate vale ; "Where oft my reed might sound To maids and shepherds round, And all thy sons, Nature, learn my tale. THE MANSION OF REST. BY THE RT. HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX, I TALKED to my flattering heart, And chid its wild wandering way* j £48 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. I charged it from folly to part, And to husband the rest of its days I I bade it no longer admire The meteors which fancy had dress'd ; I whisper'd 'twas time to retire, And seek for a Mansion of Rest. A charmer was listening the while, Who caught up the tone of my lay ; " O come then," she cried, with a smile, " And I'll show you the place and the way : I followed the witch to her home, And vow'd to be always her guest : " Never more," I exclaim'd, " will I roam " In search of the Mansion of Rest." But the sweetest of moments will fly, Not long was my fancy beguiled ; For too soon I confess'd, with a sigh, That the syren deceived while she smiled. Deep, deep, did she stab the repose Of my trusting and unwary breast. And the door of each avenue close, That led to the Mansion of Rest. Then Friendship enticed me to stray Through the long magic wilds of Romance ; But I found that she meant to betray, And shrunk from the sorcerer's glance. For experience has taught me to know, That the soul that reclined on her breast, Might toss on the billows of woe, And ne'er find the Mansion of Rest. Pleasure's path I determined to try, But Prudence I met in the way ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 249 Conviction flash'd light from her eye, And appeared to illumine my day : She cried — as she shew'd me a grave, With nettles and wild flowers dress'd, O'er which the dark cypress did wave, " Behold there the Mansion of Re3t»" „ She spoke — and half vanish'd in air, For she saw mild Religion appear With a smile, that would banish despair, And dry up the penitent tear. Doubts and fears from my bosom were driven. And, pressing the cross to her breast, H And pointing serenely to Heaven, She show'd the true Mansion of Rest. THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND, BY DR. SMOLLETT. MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn ! Thy sons, for valor long renown'd, Lie slaughtered on their native ground \ '»,' Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door ; K In smoky ruins sunk they lie, The monuments of cruelty ! The wretched owner sees, afar, His all become the prey of war 5 W 250 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast, and curses life. Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks, Where once they fed their wanton flocks ; Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain 5 Thy infants perish on the plain. What boots it then, in every clime, Through the wide-spreading waste of time. Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiminish'd blaze ? Thy towering spirit now is broke, Thy neck is bended to the yoke : What foreign arms could never quell. By civil rage and rancor fell. The rural pipe and merry lay No more shall cheer the happy day : No social scenes of gay delight Beguile the dreary winter night : No strains, but those of sorrow, flow, And nought be heard but sounds of woe ; While the pale phantoms of the slain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain. Oh baneful cause, oh fatal morn, Accursed to ages yet unborn ! The sons against their fathers stood ; The parent shed his children's blood. Yet, when the rage of battle ceased, The victor's soul was not appeased ; The naked and forlorn must feel Devouring flames and murdering steel ! The pious mother, doom'd to death, Forsaken, wanders o'er the heath : BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 251 The bleak wind whistles round her head ; Her helpless orphans cry for bread ! Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, She views the shades of night descend, And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, Weeps o ? er her tender babes, and dies ! Whilst the warm blood bedews my veins-, And unimpaired remembrance reigns, Resentment of my country's fate Within my filial breast shall beat ; And, spite of her insulting foe, My sympathising verse shall flow : •' Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn " Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn V\ ODE TO LEVEX WATER, BY DR. SMOLLETT. On Leven's banks, while free to rove. » And tune the rural pipe to love, I envied not the happiest swain That ever trod tb' Arcadian plain. Pure stream ! in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; No torrents stain thy limpid source, No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread ; 252 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood. The springing trout, in speckled pride ; The salmon, monarch of the tide ; The ruthless pike, intent on war ; The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine. Still on thy banks, so gaily green, May numerous herds and flocks be seen s And lasses chanting o'er the pail ; And shepherds piping in the dale ; And ancient faith that knows no guile ; And industry imbrown'd with toil ; And hearts resolved, and hands prepared; The blessings they enjoy to guard ! RETIREMENT. 3Y JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D: WHEN in the crimson cloud of even. The lingering light decays, And Hesper, on the front of heaven. His glittering gem displays ; Deep in the silent vale, unseen, Beside a lulling stream, \ pensive youth, of placid mien. Indulged this tender theme. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. ?J$ Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled High o'er the glimmering dale 5 Ye woods along whose windings wild Murmurs the solemn gale ; Where Melancholy strays forlorn, And Woe retires to weep, What time the wan moon's yellow horn, Gleams on the western deep : To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms Ne'er drew Ambition's eye, Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms, To your retreats I fly. Deep in your most sequester'd bower Let me at last recline, Where Solitude, mild, modest power*, Leans on her ivied shrine. How shall I woo thee, matchless fair ! Thy heavenly smile how win ! Thy smile that smooths the brow of Ca^re, And stills the storm within. ■O wilt thou to thy favorite grove Thine ardent votary bring, And bless his hours, and bid them move Serene, on silent wing ! Oft let remembrance soothe his mind With dreams of former days, When, in the lap of Peace reclined, He framed his infant lays ; When Fancy roved at large, nor Care Nor cold Distrust alarm 'd, 1 Nor Envy, with malignant glare, His simple youth had harm'd. W fl Jli4 BEAUTffiS OF POETRY, 'Twas then, O Solitude, to thee His early vows were paid, From heart sincere, and warm, and free, Devoted to the shade. \h, why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam, demote from all congenial joy ! — O take the wanderer home. Thy shades, thy silence now be mine, Thy charms my only theme ; My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream. ~Whence the scared owl, on pinions gray? Breaks from the rustling boughs* And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose. 0, while to thee the woodland pours Its wildly warbling song, And balmy, from the bank of flowerg>. The zephyr breathes along 5 Let no rude sound invade from far. No vagrant foot be nigh, No ray from Grandeur's gilded car, Flash on the startled eye. But if some pilgrim, through the glade, Thy hallow'd bowers explore, O guard from harm his hoary head, And listen to his lore ; For he of joys divine shall tell, That wean from earthly woe, .And triumph o'er the mighty spell That chains this heart below. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. -255 For me, no more the path invites Ambition loves to tread ; No more I climb those toilsome heights By guileful Hope misled ; Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more To Mirth's enlivening strain 5 For present pleasure soon is o'er, And all the past is vain. THE SPLEEM Jin Epistle to Mr. Cuthbert Jackson. BY MR. GREEN. THIS motley piece to you I send, Who always were a faithful friend 5 Who, if disputes should happen hence> Can best explain the author's sense ; And, anxious for the public weal, Do, what I sing, so often feel, The want of method pray excuse, Allowing for a vapor'd Muse ; Nor, to a narrow path confined, Hedge in by rules a roving mind. The child is genuine ; you may trace Throughout the sire's transmitted face. Nothing is stolen : my Muse, though mean, Draws from the spring she finds within ; 256 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Nor vainly buys what Gildon* sells, Poetic buckets for dry wells. School -helps I want, to climb on high, Where all the ancient treasures lie, And there, unseen, commit a theft On wealth in Greek exchequers left. Then where ? from whom ? what can I steal. Who only with the moderns deal ? This were attempting to put on Raiment from naked bodies won :f They safely sing before a thief, They cannot give who want relief; Some few excepted, names well knowi^. And justly laurell'd with renown, Whose stamp of genius marks their ware, And theft detects : of theft beware ; From More so lash'd, example fit, Shun petty larceny in wit. First know, my friend, I do not mean To write a treatise on the Spleen ; Nor to prescribe when nerve3 convulse ; Nor mend th ? alarm -watch, your pulse. If I am right, your question lay, What course I take to drive away The day -mare Spleen, by whose false pleas Men prove mere suicides in ease ? And how I do myself demean^ In stormy world to live serene ? * Gildon's Art of Poetry. f A painted vest Prince Vortiger had on, Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won. /faward's British Ptinccs. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, Z5T When, by its magic -lantern, Spleen With frightful figures spread life's scene, And threatening prospects urged my fears, A stranger to the luck of heirs \ Reason, some quiet to restore, Show'd part was substance, shadow more 5 With Spleen's dead weight though heavy grown, In life's rough tide I sunk not down, But swam, till Fortune threw a rope, Buoyant on bladders fill'd with hope. I always choose the plainest food To mend viscidity of blood. Hail ! water-gruel, healing power, Of easy access to the poor 5 Thy help love's confessors implore. And doctors secretly adore ; To thee I fly, by thee dilute- Through veins my blood doth quicker shooC, And by swift current throws oif clean Prolific particles of Spleen. I never sick by drinking grow, Nor keep myself a cup too low, And seldom Chloe's lodgings haunt, Thrifty of spirits, which I want. Hunting I reckon very good To brace the nerves, and stir the blood : But after no field honors itch, Achieved by leaping hedge and ditch. While Spleen lies soft relax'd in bed, Or o'er coal -fires inclines the head, Hygeia's sons, with hound and horn, And jovial cry, awake the morn. 258 BEAUTIES OF POETRY j These see her from the dusky plight, Smear'd by th' embraces of the night, "With roral wash redeem her face, And prove herself of Titan's race, And, mounting in loose robes the skies, Shed light and fragrance as she Hies. Then horse and hound fierce joy display^ Exulting at the hark-away, And in pursuit o'er tainted ground From lungs robust field-notes resound. Then, as St. George the dragon slew, Spleen, pierced, trod down, and dying, view ; "While all their spirits are on wing, And woods, and hills, and valleys, ring. To cure the mind's wrong bias, Spleen., Some recommend the bowling-green 5 Some, hilly walks 5 all, exercise ; Fling but a stone, the giant dies 5 Laugh and be well. Monkeys have been Extreme good doctors for the Spleen 5 And kitten, if the humor hit, Has Harlequin'd away the fit- Since mirth is good in this behalf, At some particulars let us laugh. Witlings, brisk fools cursed with half sense. That stimulates their impotence ; Who buz in rhyme, and, like blind flies., Err with their wings for want of eyes. Poor authors worshipping a calf, Deep tragedies that make us laugh, A strict dissenter saying grace, A lecturer preaching for a place, BEAUTIES OF POETRV. 09 Folks, tilings prophetic to dispense, Making the past the future tense, The popish dubbing of a priest, Fine epitaphs on knaves deceased, Green-apron'd Pythonissa's rage, Great iEscuIapius on his stage, A miser starving to be rich, The prior of Newgate's dying speech, A jointured widow's ritual state, Two Jews disputing tete-a-tete^ New almanacs composed by seers, Experiments on felons' ears, Disdainful prudes, who ceaseless ply The superb muscle of the eye, A coquet's April-weather face, A Queensborough mayor behind his mace. And fops in military show, Are sovereign for the case in view. If spleen-fogs rise at close of day, ^ I clear my evening with a play, ?. Or to some concert take my way. J The company, the shine of lights, -\ The scenes of humor, music's flights, S. Adjust and set the soul to rights. J Life's moving pictures, well-wrought play?;. To others' grief attention raise : Here, while the tragic fictions glow, We borrow joy by pitying woe ; There gaily comic scenes delight, And hold true mirrors to our sight ; Virtue, in charming dress array 'dj Calling the passions to her aid 5 } §60 BEAUTIES OF POETRY When moral scenes just actions join, Takes shape, and shows her face divine. Music has charms, we all may find, Ingratiate deeply with the mind. "When art does sound's high power advance, To music's pipe the passions dance ; Motions unwill'd its powers have shown, Tarantulated by a tune. Many have held the soul to be Nearly allied to harmony. Her have I known indulging grief, And shunning company's relief, Unveil her face, and, looking round, Own, by neglecting sorrow's wound, The consanguinity of sound. In rainy days keep double guard, Or Spleen will surely be too hard ; Which, like those fish by sailors met, Fly highest while their wings are wet. In such dull weather, so unfit To enterprise a work of wit, When clouds one yard of azure sky, That's fit for similie, deny, I dress my face with studious looks, And shorten tedious hours with books. But if dull fogs invade the head, That memory minds not what is read. I sit in window, dry as ark, And on the drowning world remark ; Or to some coifee-house I stray For news, the manna of a day f BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 26 1 And from the hipp'd discourses gather, That politics go by the weather : Then seek good humor'd tavern chums ', And play at cards, but for small sums ; Or with the merry fellows quaff, And laugh aloud with them that laugh : Or drink a joco-serious cup, With souls who've took their freedom up, And let my mind, beguiled by talk, In Epicurus' garden walk, Who thought it heaven to be serene ; Pain, hell, and purgatory, Spleen. Sometimes I dress, with women sit, And chat away the gloomy fit ; Quit the stiff garb of serious sense, And wear a gay impertinence, Nor think nor speak with any pains, But lay on fancy's neck the reins ; Talk of unusual swell of waist In maid of honor loosely laced, And beauty borrowing Spanish red, And loving pair with separate bed, And jewels pawn'd for loss of ^ame, And then redeem'd by loss of fame $ Of Kitty (aunt left in the lurch By grave pretence to go to church) Perceived in hack with lover line, Like Will and Mary on the coin : And thus in modish manner we, In aid of sugar, sweeten tea. Permit, ye fair, your idol form. Which ev'n the coldest heart can warm. X £G2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. May with its beauties grace my line, While I bow down before its shrine, And your throng'd altars with my lays Perfume, and get by giving praise. "With speech so sweet, so sweet a mien, You excommunicate the Spleen, Which, fiend -like, flies the magic ring You form with sound, when pleased to sing ; Whate'er you say, howe'er you move, We look, we listen, and approve. Your touch, which gives to feeling bliss, Our nerves officious throng to kiss 5 By Celia's pat, on their report, The grave air'd soul, inclined to spor^ Renounces wisdom's sullen pomp, And loves the floral game to romp. But who can view the pointed rays That from black eyes scintillant blaze ? Love on his throne of glory seems Encompassed with satellite beams ; But when blue eyes, more softly bright. Diffuse benignly humid light, We gaze, and see the smiling loves, And Cytherea's gentle doves, And, raptured, fix in such a face, Move's mercy -seat and throne of grace. Shine but on age, you melt its snow % Again fires long extinguish'd glow, And, charin'd by witchery of eyes, Blood long congealed liquefies ! True miracle, and fairly done By heads which are adored while on; But oh, what pity 'tis to find ♦Such beauties, both of form and mind. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 263 By modern breeding much debased, In half the female world at least ! Hence I with care such lotteries shun, Where, a prize miss'd, Pm quite undone ; And ha'n't, by venturing on a wife, Yet run the greatest risk in life. Mothers and guardian-aunts, forbear Your impious pains to form the fair, Nor lay out so much cost and art But to deflower the virgin heart 5 Of every folly-fostering bed, By quickening heat of custom bred, Rather, than by your culture spoil M, Desist and give us nature wild, Delighted with a hoyden soul, "Which truth and innocence control. Coquets, leave off affected arts, Gay fowlers at a flock of hearts 5 "Woodcocks to shun your snares have skill; You show so plain you strive to kill. In love the artless catch the game, And they scarce miss who never aim. The world's great Author did creaie The sex to fit the nuptial state, And meant a blessing in a wife Tet solace the fatigues of life ; And old inspired times display How wives could love, and yet obey 5 Then truth, and patient of control, And housewife arts adorn'd the soul ! And charms, the gift of nature, shone ; And jealousy, a thing unknown : 264 BEAUTIES OF POETRT, Veils were the only masks they wore ; Novels, (receipts to make a whore) Nor ombre, nor quadrille, they knew, Nor Pam's puissance felt at loo. Wise men did not, to be thought gay,. Then compliment their power away : But lest, by frail desires misled, The girls forbidden paths should tread, Of ignorance raised the safe high Avail ; "We sink haw-haws that show them all. Thus we at once solicit sense, And charge them not to break the fence. Now, if untired, consider, friend, What I avoid to gain my end. Law -licensed breaking of the peace. To which vacation is disease ; A gipsey diction scarce known well 8y th* magi who law-fortunes tell, I shun ; nor let it breed within Anxiety, and that the Spleen 5 Law, grown a forest, where perplex The mazes and the brambles vex ; Where its twelve verderers every day Are changing still the public way : Yet if we miss our path and err, We grievous penalties incur ; And wanderers tire, and tear their skin.. And then get out where they went in. I never game, and rarely bet ; Am loth to lend, or run in debt. No comptre -writs me agitate ; "Who moralizing pass the gate* BEAUTIES OF POETRY. £60 And there mine eyes on spendthrifts turn, Who vainly o'er their bondage mourn. Wisdom, before beneath their care, Pays her upbraiding visits there, And forces Folly through the grate Her panegyric to repeat. This view, profusely when inclined, Enters a caveat in the mind : Experience join'd with common sense. To mortals is a providence. Passion, as frequently is seen. Subsiding settles into Spleen. Hence, as the plague of happy life. I run away from party strife. A prince's cause, a church's claim. I've known to raise a mighty flame. And priest, as stoker, very free To throw in peace and charity. That tribe whose practicals decree Small beer the deadliest heresy; Who, fond of pedigree, derive From the most noted whore alive : Who own wine's old prophetic aid, And love the mitre Bacchus made,. Forbid the faithful to depend On half-pint drinkers for a friend, And in whose gay red -letter 'd face We read good living more than grace : Nor they, so pure, and so precise, Immaculate as their white of eyes, Who for the spirit hug the Spleen, Phylacter'd throughout all their mien, X % £66 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Who doctrines, as infectious, fear, Which are not steep'd in vinegar, And samples of heart-chested grace Expose in show-glass of the face Did never me as yet provoke Either to honor band and cloke, Or deck my hat with leaves of oak .} I rail not with mock -patriot grace At folks, because they are in place 5 Nor, hired to praise with stallion pen, Serve the ear -lechery of men : But to avoid religious jars, The laws are my expositors, Which in my doubting mind create Conformity to church and state ; I go, pursuant to my plan, To Mecca with the caravan ; And think it right in common sense, Both for diversion and defence. Reforming schemes are none of mine 5 To mend the world's a vast design : Like theirs who tug, in little boat, To pull to them the ship afloat, While, to defeat their labor'd end, At once both wind and stream contend : Success herein is seldom seen, And zeal, when baffled, turns to Spleen. Happy the man who, innocent, Grieves not at ills he can't prevent; His skiff does with the current glide, Not puffing pull'd against the tide. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 9X7, He, paddling by the scuffling crowd, Sees unconcern'd life's wager row'd ; And when he can't prevent foul play, Enjoys the folly of the fray. Yet philosophic love of ease I suffer not to prove disease, But rise up in the virtuous cause Of a free press and equal laws. The press restrained ! nefaudous thought ! In vain our sires have nobly fought : While free from force the press remains. Virtue and freedom cheer our plains, And learning largesses bestows, And keeps uncensured open house, "VVe to the nation's public mart Our works of wit, and schemes of art, And philosophic goods, this way, Like water-carriage, cheap convey. This tree, which knowledge so affords., Inquisitors, with flaming swords, From lay approach with zeal defend, Lest their own paradise should end. The press from her fecundous womb Brought forth the arts of Greece and Rome : Her offspring, skill'd in logic war, Truth's banner waved in open air : The monster Superstition fled, And hid in shades its Gorgon head ; And lawless power, the long kept field, By reason quell'd, was forced to yield. This nurse of arts, and freedom's fence, To chain, is treason against sense : 268 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, And, Liberty, thy thousand tongues None silence, who design no wrongs ; For those who use the gag's restraint, First rob before they stop complaint. Since disappointment galls within, And subjugates the soul to Spleen, Most schemes, as money snares, I hate. And bite not at projector's bait. Sufficient wrecks appear each day, And yet fresh fools are cast away. Ere well the bubbled can turn round, Their painted vessel runs aground ; Or in deep seas it oversets By a fierce hurricane of debts ; Or helm directors, in one trip, Freight first embezzled, sink the ship. Such was of late the Corporation,* The brazen serpent of the nation, "Which, when hard accidents distress'd. The poor must look at to be bless'd, And thence expect, with paper seal'd By fraud and usury, to be heaPd. I in no soul-consumption wait "Whole years at levees of the great, * The Charitable Corporation, instituted for the relief of the industrious poor, by assisting- them with small sums upon pledges, at legal interest. By the villany of those who had the manage- ment of this scheme, the proprietors were defrauded of very con- siderable sums of money. In 1732 the conduct of the directors of this body became the subject of a parliamentary enquiry ; and some of them, who were members of the House of Commons, were expelled for their concern in this iniquitous transaction. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 2G2 And hungry hopes regale the while On the spare diet of a smile. There you may see the idol stand With mirror in his wanton hand ; Above, below, now here, now there, He throws about the sunny glare. Crowds pant, and press to seize the prize, The gay delusion of their eyes. When fancy tries her limning skill, To draw and color at her will, And raise and round the figure well, And show her talent to excel, I guard my heart, lest it should woo Unreal beauties Fancy drew ; And, disappointed, feel despair At loss of things that never were. When I lean politicians mark, Grazing on ether in the park, Who, e'er on wing with open throats, Fly at debates, expresses, votes, Just in the manner swallows use, Catching their airy food of news ; Whose latrant stomachs oft molest The deep laid plans their dreams suggest j Or see some poet pensive sit, Fondly mistaking Spleen for wit ; W T ho, though short-winded, still will aim To sound the epic trump of Fame 5 Who still on Phoebus' smiles will doat, Nor learn conviction from his coat ; I bless my stars, I never knew Whimsies which, close pursued, undo . 370 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. And have, from old experience, been Both parent and the child of Spleen. These subjects of Apollo's state, Who from false sire derive their fate, With airy purchases undone Of lands which none lend money on, Born dull, had folio w'd thriving ways. Nor lost one hour to gather bays. Their fancies first delirious grew, And scenes ideal took for true ; Fine to the sight Parnassus lies, And with false prospects cheats their eyes ', The fabled gods the poets sing ; A season of perpetual spring ; Brooks, flowery fields, and groves of trees'., Affording sweets and similes ; Gay dreams inspired in myrtle bowers-. And wreaths of undecaying flowers, Apollo's harp with airs divine, The sacred music of the Nine, Views of the temple raised to Famc^ And for a vacant niche proud aim, Ravish their souls, and plainly show What Fancy's sketching power can do. They will attempt the mountain steep, Where, on the top, like dreams in sleep, The Muses revelation show, That find men crack'd, or make them so. You friend, like me, the trade of rhyme Avoid elaborate waste of time, Nor are content to be undone, To pass for Phcebus' crazy son. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 271 Poems, the hop-grounds of the brain, Afford the most uncertain gain : And lotteries never tempt the wise^, With blanks so many to a prize. I only transient visits pay, Meeting the Muses in my way, Scarce known to the fastidious dames, Nor skill'd to call them by their names, Nor can their passports, in these days, Your profit warrant, or your praise. On poems by their dictates writ, Critics, as sworn appraisers, sit, And mere upholsterers in a trice On gems and paintings set a price. These tailoring artists for our lays Invent cramp'd rules, and, with straight stays,, Striving free Nature's shape to hit, Emaciate sense before they fit. A common-place, and many friends, Can serve the plagiary's ends, Whose easy vamping talent lies, First, wit to pilfer, then disguise. Thus some, devoid of art and skill, To search the mine on Pindus' hill, Proud to aspire and workmen grow. By genius doom'd to stay below, For their own digging show the town Wit's treasure brought by others down- Some wanting, if they find a mine, An artist's judgment to refine, On fame precipitately fix'd, The ore, with baser metals mix'd.. 2T2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Melt down, impatient of delay, And call the vicious mass a play. All these engage, to serve their ends, A band select of trusty friends, "Who, lesson'd right, extol the thing, As Psapho* taught his birds to sing ; Then to the ladies they submit, Returning officers on wit : A crowded house their presence draws, And on the beaux imposes laws. A judgment in its favor ends, When all the pannel are its friends : Their natures, merciful and mild, Have from mere pity saved the child : lu bulrush ark the bantling found, Helpless, and ready to be drown'd, They have preserved by kind support, And brought the baby -muse to court. But there's a youthf that you can name., Who needs no leading-strings to fame .: Whose quick maturity of brain The birth of Pallas may explain : Dreaming of whose depending fate, I heard Melpomene debate ; * Psapho was a Libyan, who, desiring" to be accounted a god, effected it by this means : He took young- birds, and laugh them to sing Psapho is a great god. When they were perfect in their lesson, he let them fly ; and other birds learning the same ditty, repeated it in the woods ; on which h*s countrymen offered sacri- fice to him, and considered him as a deity. f Mr. Glover, the excellent author of Leonidas, Boadicea, Me- dea, &a BEAUTIES OF POETRY. S75 This, this is he, that was foretold Should emulate our Greeks of old. Inspired by me with sacred art, He sings and rules the varied heart 5 If Jove ? s dread anger he rehearse, We hear the thunder in his verse ; If he describes love turn'd to rage,, The furies riot in his page : If he fair liberty and law By ruffian power expiring, draw, The keener passions then engage Aright, and sanctify their rage ; If he attempt disastrous love, We hear those plaints that wound the giG\e« Within the kinder passions glow, And tears distill'd from pity flow. From the bright vision I descend* And my deserted theme attend. Me never did ambition seize, Strange fever most inflamed by ease ! The active lunacy of pride, That courts jilt Fortune for a bride, This paradise-tree, so fair and high, 1 view with no aspiring eye : Like aspen shake the restless leaves, And Sodom-fruit our pain deceives. Whence frequent falls give no surprise, But fits of Spleen, call'd growing wise. Greatness in glittering forms display'd Affects weak eyes much used to shade, And by its falsely envied scene Gives self-debasing fits of Spleen. Y 274 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. "VVe should be pleased that things are so, Who do for nothing see the show, And, middle-sized, can pass between Life's hubbub safe, because unseen, And 'midst the glare of greatness trace A watery sunshine in the face, And pleasures fled to, to redress The sad fatigue of idleness. Contentment, parent of delight, So much a stranger to our sight, Say, goddess, in what happy place Mortals behold thy blooming face ? Thy gracious auspices impart, And for thy temple choose my heart I They whom thou deignest to inspire, Thy science learn, to bound desire 5 By happy alchemy of mind They turn to pleasure all they find 5 They both disdain in outward mien The grave and solemn garb of Spleen, And meretricious arts of dress, To feign a joy and hide distress ; Unmoved when the rude tempest blows, "Without an opiate they repose ; And, covered by your shield, defy The whizzing shafts that round them fly : Nor meddling with the gods' affairs, Concern themselves with distant cares 5 But place their bliss in mental rest, And feast upon the good possess'd. Forced by soft violence of prayer, The blithesome goddess soothes my care. BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 2TS I feel the deity inspire, And thus she models my desire : — Two hundred pounds half-yearly paid, Annuity securely made, A farm some twenty miles from town, Small, tight, salubrious, and my own 3 Two maids that never saw the town, A serving man not quite a clown, A boy to help to tread the mow, And drive while t'other holds the plow, A chief, of temper form'd to please, Fit to converse, and keep the keys ; And, better to preserve the peace, Com missioned by the name of niece : "With understandings of a size To think their master very wise. May Heaven ('tis all I wish for) send One genial room to treat a friend, Where decent cupboard, little plate, Display benevolence, not state. And may my humble dwelling stand Upon some chosen spot of land : A pond before, full to the brim, Where cows may cool, and geese may swim : Behind, a green like velvet neat, Soft to the eye and to the feet ; Where odorous plants, in evening fair, Breathe all around ambrosial air 5 From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground, Fenced by a slope with bushes crown'd. Fit dwelling for the feather'd throng, Who pay their quit-rents with a song ; With opening views of hill and dale, WhiCxi sense and fancy too regale, sr6 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Where the half-cirque which vision bounds X.ike amphitheatre surrounds ; And woods impervious to the breeze, Thick phalanx of embodied trees ; From hills, through plains, in dusk array Extended far, repel the day. Mere stillness, height, and solemn shade. Invite, and contemplation aid. Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate The dark decrees and will of Fate ; And dreams beneath the spreading beeci Inspire, and docile fancy teach, "While, soft as breezy breath of wind. Impulses rustle through the mind : Here Dryads, scorning Phoebus' ray, While Pan melodious pipes away, In measured motions frisk about, Till old Silenus puts them out. There see the clover, pea, and bean, Vie in variety of green 3 Fresh pastures speckled o'er with sheep. Brown fields their fallow sabbaths keep, Plump Ceres golden tresses wear, And poppy top -knots deck her hair, And silver streams through meadows stray. And Naiads on the margin play, And lesser nymphs on side of hills From plaything urns pour down the rills. Thus shelter'd, free from care and strife. May I enjoy a calm through life 5 See faction, safe in low degree, As men at land see storms at sea, And laugh at miserable elves, Not kind so much as to themselves ? BEAUTIES OF POETRY. %?T Cursed with such souls of base alloy. As can possess, but not enjoy; Debarr'd the pleasure to impart, By avarice, sphincter of the heart, Who wealth, hard-earn'd by guilty cares* Bequeath untouch'd to thankless heirs. May I, with look ungloom'd by guile, And wearing virtue's livery smile, Prone the distressed to relieve, And little trespasses forgive, With income not in Fortune's power, And skill to make a busy hour, With trips to town, life to amuse, To purchase books, and hear the news % To see old friends, brush off the clown, And quicken taste at coming down 5 Unhurt by sickness' blasting rage, And slowly mellowing in age, When fate extends its gathering gripe, Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe 5 Quit a worn being without pain, Perhaps to blossom soon again. But now more serious see me grow, And what I think, my Memmius, know. Th' enthusiast's hope, and raptures wild. Have never yet my reason foil'd. His springy soul dilates like air, When free from weight of ambient care 5 And hush'd in meditation deep, Slides into dreams, as when asleep ; Then, fond of new discoveries grown, Proves a Columbus of her own, Y 2 27* BEAUTIES OF POETRY Disdains the narrow bounds of place, And through the wilds of endless space. Borne up on metaphysic wings, Chases light forms and shadowy things, And, in the vague excursion caught, Brings home some rare exotic thought-. The melancholy man such dreams As brightest evidence esteems ; Fain would he see some distant scene Suggested by his restless Spleen, And Fancy's telescope applies With tinctured glass to cheat his eyes. Such thoughts as love the gloom of night, I close examine by the light ; For who, though bribed by gain to lie, Dare sun-beam written truths deny, And execute plain common sense On faith's mere hearsay evidence r That superstition mayn't create And club its ills with those of fate, I many a notion take to task, Made dreadful by its visor-mask. Thus scruple, spasm of the mind, Is cured, and certainty I find. Since optic reason shews me plain r A dreaded spectres of the brain, And legendary fears are gone, Though in tenacious childhood sown 5 Thus in opinions I commence Freeholder in the proper sense, And neither suit nor service do, Nor homage to pretenders show.. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Who boast themselves by spurious roll Lords of the manor of the soul ; Preferring sense from chin that's bare, To nonsense throned in whisker'd hair. To thee, Creator uncreate, O Enfium Ens I divinely great ! Hold, Muse, nor melting pinions. try, Nor near the blazing glory fly, Nor straining break thy feeble bow, Unfeather'd arrows far to throw : Through fields unknown not madly stray, Where no ideas mark the way. With tender eyes, and colors faint, And trembling hands, forbear to paint. Who features veil'd by light can hit ? Where can, what has no outline, sit ? My soul, the vain attempt forego, Thyself, the fitter subject, know. He wisely shuns the bold extreme, Who soon lays by th' unequal theme, Nor runs, with wisdom's Syrens caught, On quicksands swallowing shipwreck'd thought j But, conscious of his distance, gives Mute praise, and humble negatives. In one, no object of our sight, Immutable and infinite, Who can't be cruel or unjust, Calm and resign'd, I fix my trust ; To him my past and present state I owe, and must my future fate. A stranger into life I'm come ; Dying may be our going home,? 280 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Transported here by angry Fate, The convicts of a prior state. Hence I no anxious thoughts bestow On matters I can never know ; Through life's foul way, like vagrant pass'd, He'll grant a settlement at last, And with sweet ease the wearied crown, By leave to lay his being down. If doom'd to dance th' eternal round Of life, no sooner lost but found, And dissolution soon to come, Like spunge, wipes out life's present sum, But can't our state of power bereave An endless series to receive 5 Then, if hard dealt with here by fate, We balance in another state, And consciousness must go along, And sign th' acquittance for the wrong. He for his creatures must decree More happiness than misery, Or be supposed to create, Curious to try what 'tis to hate : And do an act which rage infers, 'Cause lameness halts, or blindness errs. Thus, thus I steer my bark, and sail On even keel with gentle gale 5 At helm I make my reason sit, My crew of passions all submit. If dark and blustering prove some nights, Philosophy puts forth her lights ; Experience holds the cautious glass, To shun the breakers as I pass, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 28 i And frequent throws the wary lead, To see what dangers may be hid ; And once in seven years I'm seen At Bath or Tunbridge, to careen. Though pleased to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way, With store sufficient for relief, And wisely still prepared to reef, Nor wanting the dispersive bowl Of cloudy weather in the soul, I make, (may Heaven propitious send Such wind. and weather to the end) Neither becalm'd, nor overblown, Life's Toyage to the world unknown. LUCY AND COLIN BY THOMAS TICKELL, ESQ. OF Leinster, famed for maidens fair, Bright Lucy was the grace ; Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream Reflect so fair a face ; Till luckless love, and pining care. Impair 'd her rosy hue, Her coral lips, and damask cheek* And eyes of glossy blue. Oh ! have you seen a lily pale, ^Y\\< i n beating rains descend ? £82 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. So droop'd the slow -consuming maid ; Her life now near its end. By Lucy warn'd, of flattering swains Take heed, ye easy fair : Of vengeance due to broken vows, Ye perjured swains, beware. Three times, all in the dead of night, A bell was heard to ring ; And at her window shrieking thrice, The raven fiapp'd his wing. Too well the love-lorn maiden knew The solemn boding sound : And thus, in dying words, bespoke The virgins weeping round : w I hear a voice you cannot hear, " Which says I must not stay : <; I see a hand you cannot see, " Which beckons me away. •<• By a false heart, and broken vows. " In early youth I die : " Am I to blame, because his bride " Is thrice as rich as I ? " Ah ! Colin, give her not thy vows $ " Vows due to me alone ; " Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss, " Nor think him all thy own. " To-morrow in the church to wed, " Impatient both prepare ; « But know, fond maid, and know, false mail. " That Lucy will be there, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 283 " Then bear my corse ; ye comrades, bear, " The bridegroom blithe to meet $ " He in his wedding trim so gay, " I in my winding sheet." She spoke, she died — her corse was borne. The bridegroom blithe to meet 5 He in his wedding trim so gay, She in her winding sheet. Then what were perjured Colin's thoughts ? How were those nuptials kept ? The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead, And all the village wept. Confusion, shame, remorse, despair, At once his bosom swell : The damps of death bedew'd his brow, He shook, he groan'd, he fell. From the vain bride (a bride no more) The varying crimson fled, "When, stretch'd before her rival's corse, She saw her husband dead. Then to his Lucy's new-made grave Convey 'd by trembling swains, One mould with her, beneath one sod, For ever now remains ! Oft on their grave the constant hind And plighted maid are seen 5 With garlands gay, and true-love knots, Thev deck the sacred green. But swain forsworn, whoe'er thou art, This hallow'd spot forbear ; Jlemember Colin's dreadful fate, And fear to meet Mm there. 284 BEAUTIES OF POETRY WINDSOR FOREST. BY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ. THY forests, Windsor ! and thy green retreats, At once the monarch's and the Muses' seats, Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids ! Unlock your springs, and open all your shades. Granville commands ; — your aid, O Muses bring !- What Muse for Granville can refuse to sing ! The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long, Live in description, and look green in song : These, were my breast inspired with equal flair-e. Like them in beauty, should be like in fame. Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, Here earth and water seem to strive again ; Not, chaos -like, together crush'd and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused : Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree. Here waving groves a checker'd scene display, And part admit, and part exclude the day ; As some coy nymph her lover's warm address Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress : There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades, Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades : Here, in full light, the russet plains extend : There, wrapp'd in clouds, the bluish hills ascend. Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes, And 'midst the desert fruitful fields arise, That, crown'd with tufted trees and fringing corn. Like verdant isles, the sable waste adorn. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 285 Let India boast her plants, nor envy we The weeping amber or the balmy tree, While by our oaks the precious loads are borne, And realms commanded which those trees adorn, Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, Though gods assembled grace his towering height. Than what more humble mountains offer here, Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear. See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd ; Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground ; Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And, nodding, tempt the joyful reaper's hand; Rich Industry sits smiling on the plains, And Peace and Plenty tell, a Stuart reigns. Not thus the land appear'd in ages past, A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste ; To savage beasts and savage laws a prey, And kings more furious and severe than they; Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods, The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods : Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves (For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.) What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd, And ev'n the elements a tyrant sway'd ? In vain kind seasons swell'd the teeming grain, Soft showers distill'd, and suns grew warm in vain ; The swain with tears his frustrate labor yields, And famislrd dies amidst his ripen'd fields. What wonder, then, a beast or subject slain Were equal crimes in a despotic reign ? Both, doom'd alike, for sportive tyrant* bled; But, while the subject starved, the beast was fed. Z 286 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began ; A mighty hunter, and his prey was man : Our haughty Norman boasts that barbarous name. And makes his trembling slaves the royal game. The fields are ravish'd from th' industrious swains Trom men their cities, and from gods their fanes : The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er ; The hollow winds through naked temples roar 5 Round broken columns clasping ivy twined ; O'er heaps of ruins stalk'd the stately hind 5 The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires ; And savage howlings fill the sacred quires. Awed by his nobles, by his commons cursed, Th' oppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst ; Stretch'd o'er the poor and church his iron rod, And served alike his vassals and his God. "Whom ev'n the Saxon spared, and bloody Dane> The wanton victims of his sport remain. But see the man who spacious regions gave A waste for beasts, himself denied a grave ! Stretch'd on the lawn, his second hope survey, At once the chaser, and at once the prey : Lo ! Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart, Bleeds in the forest, like a wounded hart. Succeeding monarchs heard the subject's cries, Nor saw displeased the peaceful cottage rise. Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed, O'er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread ; The forests wonder'd at th' unusual grain, And secret transport touch'd the conscious swain, Fair Liberty, Britannia's goddess, rears tier, cheerful head, and leads the golden years- BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 287*. Ye vigorous swains ! while youth ferments your blood, And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset, Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net. "When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds, And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds, Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds, Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds J But when the tainted gales the game betray, Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey : Secure, they trust th' unfaithful field beset, Till, hovering o'er them, sweeps the swelling net. Thus (if small things we may with great compare) "When Albion sends her eager sons to war, Some thoughtless town, with ease and plenty bless'd, Near and more near the closing lines invest ; Sudden they seize th' amazed, defenceless prize, And high in air Britannia's standard flies. See ! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs. And mounts, exulting, on triumphant wings : Short is his joy 5 he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah ! what avails his glossy varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes ! The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold! Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky, The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny. To plains with well-breath'd beagles we repair, And trace the mazes of the circling hare : (Beasts, urged by us>, their fellow beasts pursue, And learn of man each other to undo."! 288 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. With slaughtering guns th' unwearied fowler rove?. When frosts have whiten'd all the naked groves, Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade, And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade. He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye ; Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky : Oft. as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamorous lapwings feci the leaden death : Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare a They fall, and leave their little lives in air. In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade. Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead, The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand : With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed. And eves the dancing cork and bending reed. Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch, with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, Swift trout, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains. Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car : The youth rush eager to the sylvan war, Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround, Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. Th' impatient courser pants in every vein, And pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd, And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep, Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep, BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 28^ Hang o'er their coursers heads with eager speed 5 And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed. Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, Th' immortal huntress, and her virgin train 5 Nor envy, Windsor, since thy shades have seen As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen : "Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign % The earth's fair light, and empress of the main. Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana stray 'd, And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade $ Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove ) Here, arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn, Her buskin'd virgins traced the dewy lawn. Above the rest a rural nymph was famed, Thy offspring, Thames ! the fair Lodona named ; (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast, The Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last,} Scarce could the goddess from her nymph be known ? But by the crescent, and the golden zone. She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care ; A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair : A pointed quiver on her shoulder sounds, And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. It chanced, as, eager of the chase, the maid Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd, Pan saw, and loved ; and, burning with desire, Pursued her flight ; her flight increased his fire. Not half so swift the trembling doe can fly, When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky; Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves, Z 3 290 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. As from the god she flew with furious pace, Or as the god, more furious, urged the chase. Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears j "Now, close behind, his sounding steps she hears ; And now his shadow reach'd her as she run, His shadow, lengthened by the setting sun ; And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair. In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, Nor could Diana help her injured maid. Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain : * Ah Cynthia ! ah — though banish'd from thy train, " Let me, O let me to the shades repair, u My native shades — there weep, and murmur there." She said, and melting as in tears she lay, In a soft silver stream dissolved away. The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps ; Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore, And bathes the forest where she ranged before. In her chaste current oft the goddess laves, And with celestial tears augments the waves. Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies The headlong mountains and the downward skies ; The watery landscape of the pendent woods, And absent trees that tremble in the floods ; In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen, And floating forests paint the waves with green ; Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams, Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames. Thou, too, great father of the British floods J "With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 291 Where towering oaks their growing honors rear, And future navies on thy shores appear^ Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives. No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear ; Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays, While led along the skies his current strays, As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes, To grace the mansion of our earthly gods ; Nor all his stars above a lustre show, Like the bright beauties on thy banks below ; Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still, Might change Olympus for a nobler hill. Happy the man whom this bright court approves. His sovereign favors, and his country loves : Happy next him, who to these shades retires, Whom nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires ; Whom humble joys of home-felt quiet please^ Successive study, exercise, and ease. He gathers health from herbs the forest yields. And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields : With chemic arts exalts the mineral powers, And draws the aromatic souls of flowers : Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high \ O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye ; Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store, Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er : Or, wandering thoughtful in the silent wood, Attends the duties of the wise and good, T' observe a mean, be to himself a friend; To follow nature, and regard bis end : 292 BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Or looks on heaven with more than mortal eyes v Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies, Amid her kindred stars familiar roam, Survey the region, and confess her home ! Such was the life great Scipio once admired, Thus Atticus and Trumbal thus retired. Ye sacred Nine ! that all my soul possess, Whose raptures fire me, — and whose visions bless, Bear me, oh bear me to sequester'd scenes, The bowery mazes and surrounding greens ; To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill, Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's Hill. (On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow, While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow.) I seem through consecrated walks to rove, I hear soft music die along the grove : Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade, By godlike poets venerable made : Here his first lays majestic Denham sung ; There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue. O early lost ! what tears the river shed, When the sad pomp along his banks was led ! His drooping swans on every note expire, And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre. Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly voice, No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice ; Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung* His living harp, and lofty Denham sung ? But hark ! the groves rejoice, the forest rings ! Are these revived ? or is it Granville sings ? r Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats, And call the Muses to their ancient seats ; BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 29$ To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes, To crown the forests with immortal greens, Make Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise, And lift her turrets nearer to the skies ; To sing those honors you deserve to wear, And add new lustre to her silver star. Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage, Surrey — the Granville of a former age : Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance, Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance : In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre, To the same notes, of love and soft desire : Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow, Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now. Oh ! wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bor£, What kings first breathed upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains ! With Edward's acts adorn the shining page, Stretch his long triumphs down through every age. Draw monarchs chain 'd, and Cressy's glorious field, The lilies blazing on the regal shield : Then from her roofs when Verrio's colors fall. And leave inanimate the naked wall, Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear, And bleed for ever under Britain's spear. Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn, And palms eternal flourish round his urn. Here o'er the martyr king the marble weeps, And fast, beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps ': Whom not th' extended Albion could contain, From old Belerium to the northern main. S>M BEAUTIES OF POETRY. The grave unites ; where ev'n the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppress'd ! Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known, (Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone :) Oh fact accursed ! what tears has Albion shed ! Heavens, what new wounds ! — and how her old have bled! She saw her sons with purple deaths expire, Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire, A dreadful series of intestine wars, Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars. At length great Anna said — " Let discord cease I" She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace ! - In that blest moment, from his oozy bed Old father Thames advanced his reverend head ; His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream His shining horns diffused a golden gleam : (graved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides His swelling waters and alternate tides ; The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd, And on her banks Augusta rose in gold; Around his throne the sea-born brothers stoodj Who swell'd with tributary urns his flood ! First, the famed authors of his ancient name* The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame : The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd ; The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd 5 Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave ; And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave : The blue, transparent Vandalis appears; The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears ; And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood ; Anol silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood.. BEAUTIES OF POETRY. £95 High in the midst, upon his urn reclined, His sea-green mantle waving with the wind) The god appear'd : he turn'd his azure eyes Where Windsor domes and pompous turrets rise ! Then bow'd and spoke ; the winds forgot to roar, And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore. Hail, sacred Peace ! hail, long-expected days, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise ! Though Tyber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold, From heaven itself though seven-fold Nilus flows, And harvests on a hundred realms bestows ; These now no more shall be the Muse's themes, Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams. Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine. And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine ; Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train ; Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign. No more my sons shall dye with British blood Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood : vSafe on my shore, each unmolested swain Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain ; The shady empire shall retain no trace Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase ; The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown. And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone. Behold ! th' ascending villas on my side Project long shadows o-er the crystal tide. Behold ! Augusta's glittering spires increase, And temples rise, the heauteous work* •:•'.' peace. I see, I see, where two fair cities bend Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend \ J3G BEAUTIES OF POETRY. There mighty nations shall enquire their doom, The world's great oracle in times to come ; There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen Once more to bend before a British queen. Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods And half thy forests rush into thy floods, Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display, To the bright regions of the rising day : Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole : Or under southern skies exalt their sails, Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales ! For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow ; The coral redden, and the ruby glow, The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold. The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind) Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind ; Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, And seas but join the regions they divide; Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, And the new world launch forth to seek the old. Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide, And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side, And naked youths and painted chiefs admire Our speech, our color, and our strange attire ! Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace ! from shore to shore, Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more ! Till the freed Indians, in their native groves, Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves ! Peru once more a race of kings behold, And other Mexicos be roof 'd with gold ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY . Exiled by thee from earth to BeepeSt hell, In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell : Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, And mad Ambition, shall attend her there : There purple Vengeance bathed in gore retires. Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires : There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel - And Persecution mourn her broken wheel : There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain ? And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain. Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd la'y> Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days : The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,. And bring the scenes of opening fate to light : My humble Muse, in unambitious strains, Paints the green forests and the flowery plains. Where Peace descending bids her olives spring, And scatters blessings from her dove-like win*. Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days, Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise.; Enough for me, that to the listening swains First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains. .3 NIGHT PIECE. BY MISS CARTER. WHILE night in solemn shade invests the pole., And calm reflection soothes the pensive soul ; While reason, undisturb'd, asserts her sway. Ai\d life's deceitful colors fade away ; A a 298 BEAUTIES OF POETRY, To thee, All-conscious Presence ! I devote This peaceful interval of sober thought : Here all my better faculties confine ; And be this hour of sacred silence thine ! If, by the day's illusive scenes misled, Mv erring soul from virtue's path has stray 'dj Snared by example, or by passion warm'd, vSome false delight my giddy sense has charm'd; My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove, And my best hopes are center 'd in thy love. Deprived of this, can life one joy afford ? Its utmost boast a vain, unmeaning word. But ah ! how oft my lawless passions rove, And break those awful precepts I approve ! Pursue the fatal impulse I abhor, And violate the virtue I adore ! Oft, when thy better Spirits guardian care Warn'd my fond soul to shun the tempting snare ; My stubborn will his gentle aid repress'd, And check'd the rising goodness in my breast : Mad with vain hopes, or urged by false desires, Still'd his soft voice, and quench'd his sacred fire>. With grief oppress'd, and prostrate in the dust, ;shouldst thou condemn, I own thy sentence just. But, oh! thy softer titles let me .claim, And plead my cause by Mercy's gentle name. Mercy ! that wipes the penitential tear, And dissipates the horrors of despair 5 From righteous justice steals the vengeful hour, Softens the dreadful attribute of power, Disarms the wrath of an offended God, And seals my pardon in a Savior's blood ! BEAUTIES OF POETRY. <®g All-powerful Grace, exert % gentle sway, And teach my rebel passions to obey ; Lest lurking Folly, with insidious art, Regain my volatile, inconstant heart ! Shall every high resolve Devotion frames Be only lifeless sounds and specious names ? O, rather, while thy hopes and fears control, In this still hour, each motion of my soul, Secure its safety by a sudden doom, And be the soft retreat of sleep my tomb I Calm let me slumber in that dark repose, Till the last morn its orient beam disclose : Theji, when the great arch -angel's potent sound rfhall echo through creation's ample round, Waked from the sleep of death, with joy survey The opening splendors of eternal day ! INSCRIPTION In a Hermitage, at Ansley-Hall, in Warwickshire. BY T. WARTON. BENEATH this stony roof reclined, I soothe to peace my pensive mind : And, while to shade my lowly cave, Embowering elms their umbrage wave : And while the maple dish is mine, The beechen cup unstain'd with wine : I scorn the gay licentious crowd, N T or heed the toys that deck the proud. 3Q0 BEAUTIES OF POETRY . Within my limits lone and still, The blackbird pipe? in artless trill 5 Fast by my conch, congenial guest, The wren has wove her mossy nest 5 From busy scenes and brighter skies. To lurk with innocence she flies ; Here hopes in safe repose to dwell, Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell. At morn I take my custom'd round, To mark how buds yon shrubby mount! : And every opening primrose count That trimly paints my blooming mount : Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude. That grace my gloomy solitude, [ teacli in winding wreaths to stray Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. At eve, within yon studious nook, ] ope my brass-embossed book, Portray 'd with many a holy deed Of martyrs, erown'd with heavenly meed : Then, as my taper waxes dim, Chant, ere I sleep, my measured hymn ; And, at the close, the gleams behold Of parting wings bedropp'd with gold. While such pure joys my bliss create, "Who but would smile at guilty state ? Who but would wish his holy lot In calm oblivion's humble grot ? ^ A «j Who but would cast his pomp away, "* To take my staff and amice gray ? And to the world's tumultuous sta^ Prefer the blameless hermitage r ^ >< ^A V* ^ ^ V ■ -- . ^>. v* N xO^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 111 111 Hi 013 979 809 Hflti iBitrara B n mi ■ ;»^<;\:;J. .